Lying, Underneath.

Tragedy of existance

I don't recall believing in the almighty,

But I do profoundly believe in ghosts.

Ghosts I believe,

Are the fragments of our imagination, unearthed deep from our consciousness.

Because believing in something so bizarre,

Is in ways better than knowing

On this earth, together, we walk alone.

Existence is proof of sanity.

We have learned to kiss each other like ghosts,

Leaving behind haunting memories

of people who now don't exist.

When you are little

you learn about ghosts,

And when you grow up

You learn to be one.

When we grow up,

We fall in love with monsters.

And then we create one for our existence.

You learn to whisper into the echoing walls,

And something in the dark whispered back.

Now you have finally learned to forgive god,

For making loneliness our mother.

There is a well-revised suicide note

in the pages of my faded journal,

I lie on the cold floor,

Waiting to die

But I remain.

I couldn't finish what I started.