These human walls are haunted.
Each vein housing personal horrors,
Every vessel a grasping terror,
The blood itself an omen;
These human walls are haunted.
These eyes are death stricken.
From the scared pupil that sees,
To the scarred psyche that perceives,
Midnight shadows dancing in pain;
These eyes are death stricken.
These muscles are cursed.
There's memories of hate,
Locked deep in tissue unmoved,
A still and ever silent reminder;
These muscles are cursed.
These bodies are forsaken.
Filled with thoughts forlorn,
To the brim with sorrow alone,
Here there are ghosts in our bones;
These bodies are forsaken.
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Ghosts In Our Bones
PoetryA poem about the feeling that we ourselves are haunted by memories of things we have done ourselves, to ourselves, to others, or have had done to us. This poem explores the idea that memories are sometimes the scariest ghosts.
