Daylight Ghosts
Never did I believe
Of ghosts
And all that unseen
The simulation of mind
Tricks my past dream
In such horror
Plays like an old cassette
And whispers
Of light breaths
Hums an old song
Lonesome days
Handles out an elixir
Of past-driven emotions
Stuck in a time capsule
Makes me dream again
Or in delight
Sunset full of wonders
Enters, as I yonder
Upon the countless graves
I did bury
It frightens me
To wander somewhere
I could not go back
Settle with contentment,
Just a glimpse
Of a painted scenery
At times
I spent with misery
Sights of familliar faces
And blurred scene
Dawns upon me
Ghosts remain
By my side
Like a shadow appears
At night in tears
A vintage picturesque
Of my past self
And all that stars-
I failed to conquer.
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The Passionate Corpse
PoetryCorpses are gross, dirty and foul-smelling. At times, they're scary to look at. But curiousity enthralls upon something unpleasant. Amidst the ugliness, it satisfies the dark part of our soul-not meant to be human. Something about it is unnatural...
