I don't know why
I cannot make friends
With the ghosts that follow me.
They show me memories...
Most of which I do not care to see.
They try to lead me down the dark hall,
With the flickering lights,
And to the big rustic door to which
Is my future,
But my mind can't press forward
Through the long hall.
It regrets and hasn't forgiven the past.
Then the lock so stubborn denies me.
This all leaves me stuck.
With these ghost that suck
All my thoughts in a great big, black pit.
I really need to make friends
With the ghost of my past,
Or I can never move forward
To the light behind that alluring rustic door.
YOU ARE READING
Chevron Notebook
PuisiA composition of personal poems from a mind of a teenager searching for relation, happiness, and mental stability through her day to day struggles. Writing in hopes that when you read you can find some relation to her writing so you know you're not...
