Specters

Sitting in my pain
Itching voices need release
Tears begin to flow
Frustration finds no peace

Calling out to the past
Still feeling its regret
No turning back the clock
No way to circumvent

Nothing can be undone
Bridges burned or set ablaze
Their ashes penetrate the earth
No blossom to be raised

Can you hear me?
Ghosts of my past
Why haunt me when I’m down?
You moved on long ago my dears
I doubt I’m haunting you somehow

Do you not care?
Please retire
Hell lies not underneath
But here where specters congregate
No shouting makes them dissipate

Sitting here you’re right beside
I feel you looking deeply
Crush my heart, soulless foes
Your ghosts deny discreetly

Photo Credit: John Waterhouse, The Lady of Shalott (1888)

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