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yesterday night, i got hunted by some ghosts when the clock struck at 3am. i tried running away from them but they never vanished. it seemed like they're inside my mind. oh yes, they are. they are inside my mind. they're living inside.
the ghosts were wearing white cloth; the names of people who tortured my mentality, those who left me, those who broke me, they were written there. they were also using silly hats, indicated there was my sufferings and the locations of my scars. they know me very well.
i hid but they can always caught me. they know my every move. they know when to attack. they know where to attack. they just know everything i think of. they know everything i do because they are me— no, they are mine.
those ghosts were mine. they disguised as scary creatures to scare me and had those light shoes to catch me from escaping because they were created for me and by me.
those ghosts, i call them, “Ghosts of Past.” they never leave. they're never gone.
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Proses with its Roses
PoetryWe all have pain inside us, inside those softhearted yet tough hearts and it's on us on how to express it, how to ease it, and how to control it. Painters grab their brushes to express. Singers grab their microphones to express. Dancers grab their s...
