There are spirits in the wood.
So softly they glow
that they lead folks astray.
I would go there, if I could,
to lose all I have
and find a new way.
But too long have I stood
and my feet are now bone
as they slowly decay.
So I know that it's no good.
I'm stuck.
YOU ARE READING
Ghostwriter
PoetryLiving with mental illness can oftentimes trap one within the inner maze of their mind. In that place, dreams, fears, wishes, and regrets all compile together to create a new world far from the one we physically exist in. At times, it becomes easy t...
