Ghosts
The ghosts of the dead,
Stained my mind,
With stories they bled,
Leaving me soaking in tears.
They stopped coming,
Awhile back,
But as much as I try rubbing,
The bloodstains remain.
YOU ARE READING
A Poetry Collection
PoetryA few poems that have been on my mind and I managed to set them on paper. Happy Reading!
Ghosts
Ghosts
The ghosts of the dead,
Stained my mind,
With stories they bled,
Leaving me soaking in tears.
They stopped coming,
Awhile back,
But as much as I try rubbing,
The bloodstains remain.
