Black Poetry : Ghost

magic77

New Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
May 22, 2012
1
1
Waking up again in a cold sweat,
yet another restless night,
and I feel a chill same as before,
unable to ignore the drop in temperature,
ponder if it’s purpose to seemingly make me pure,
for they didn’t deserve to be broken,
choking, gasping for breathe,
realizing I had nothing left to give,
so I live to play host,
to ghost of the pasts,
as my sleep doesn’t last past 2,

mind flooded with hearts ran through,
reading scripture to find forgiveness for sins committed,
seeing heartbreaker is not covered,
why bother to say yes to their desire,
when I wished nothing more,
than where we were,

shudder again as the chills run,
as I’m the one which caused their pain,
hearing faint cries in the dark,
as my heart pauses wondering if I’m false,
looking deep in the mirror,
attempting to look further into the image for clarity,
viewing the indefinite confusion,
which many were lost in,

each hoping they would be the compass to at last set me free,
all the time warning them of me,
praying for me to see as they do,
afraid to accept as they do my indiscretions,
my simple problems, subtle nuisances,
discounting supposed minor incidents,
wanting the potential perfection,
but strayed by misdirection,
so not to see the truth,
the root of my being the thing that impedes their passage,
which has become an appendage,
basic belief in limits,
conceptualizing I have limits,
when in actuality limitless in my capacity,


as wraiths graze my brow,
I bow with knees tucked,
feeling frozen touches upon my shoulder,
opening eyes to see nothing there,
not fairing well as the sun yells across the sky,
eyes red from remembering the living dead,
who were once whole,
before their hearts were stole
 

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