Ghost

Reads: 118  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 18, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 18, 2016

A A A

A A A


Mother, I am exiled to these dark places

Father, I've lost the time, I've been confined in these fragile spaces

Oh dear, he came from the badlands. He lingers in these dark places in my mind.

Oh fuck, Oh dear, I hear their presence coming near. 

My child, shush now. You have nothing to fear.

The ambiguous platitudes and hyperboles haunt my mind

I will write them just to pass the time.

I drown in self-loathment, I wonder why. 

These intricate tapestries of melancholy and sorrow that are woven from inside. 

A glimmer of hope, a sparkle of ambition is so hard to find.

Please, son. Brush it off. You'll be just fine.

Son, keep a close watch on your shadow behind.

That sad and hollow sliver of a man, creature of anxiety and stress that will kill your mind.

Son raise your head.. it will be ok.

But I simply can't. Tommorow is just another yesterday.

My head starts to drain and come to fruition, but what is fate?

Is it real? Does it controll me? Am I falling for this bait?

Or is tommorow just another yesterday?

Detrimental thoughts and pure madness embroider my mind.

The boundaries between stability are made of fragile lines.

Can you see the phantom my child? He's been long deceased- broken.

What is wrong with him? I pleaded. Why has he never spoken.

Maniacal laughter echoes this empty room.

I want to leave this place. Please end these torturous illusions soon.

He failed- was the only silent somber tune.

But please, tell me what drove him mad- what demented his mind? Oh please tell me now- tell me why?

To explain these haunting images and facades.... I could not even begin to try!

Hush. my child. The time is nye.

That pathetic little spirit- he clings on to you. You are his last refuge.

He pins himself to your corrupted youth.

I will tell you my child, I will tell you why that little man died.

He figured out that no matter how powerful you are, no matter how rich you are, no matter how famous you are, no matter how happy you are- it will always wilt away. He discovered the truth that no matter what life's ending is always filled with misery and despair. No matter what one  is to do.

And one day my sweet child, he will teach you.

 

 

 


© Copyright 2017 Bramblecat. All rights reserved.

Booksie 2017-2018 Short Story Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Bramblecat

Popular Tags