poems of a thoughtful mind

Phantom

A phantom spends
his time performing.
He's here, but not quite
Not dead, but not alright.

His sickly air's
rocking him like a soldier at sea.
He's here, but not quite
Not alive, but alright

He kneels for the priest,
unhappy in his shallows.
He's still here, fighting his fight
Alive and alright

He's breathing and choking.
His cries went unspoken.
Try as he might
depression still bites.

He's still playing
the game of life.
He's still hanging
onto the cliff.

Fuck death! He says,
Piss off! Eat shit!
I'm still here, and I'm staying
so he's staying alive.

...Mostly out of spite.