Ghost story

I just wish it were different...

I set near the hallow streets

And I creaked around the dark corners,

Mingling with dark souls

Forging an escape plan

Out of the burning misery.

I spoke to myself in a crowd

Full of emptiness

While they stared at small screens,

And forgot my nearly formed corpse

Laying in the rubbish bin

Covered by dirt and rotten smells

In a black plastic bag.

What the hack?

I tried to say ‘hi!’ to you,

That moment you said ‘bye!’

I saw it in the corner of your eye,

Tears of relief;

You had finally gotten rid of me.

You were not ready for me,

But who is?

I am a surprise from above,

Nobody prepares for me.

I thought you would love me,

I thought you would go crazy

And hold my newly formed body

In your warm arms.

And give it love –

I just wanted your love.

It was going to clothe me

In winters so vile

And feed me in summer nights.

But look at me now…

I was not going to take too much,

I was going to only take a piece

From any plate you eat.

I was going to be your best friend

And an extra set of legs and arms

Loyal to only you and your love;

A heart so pure and kind.

But look at me now…

I lay in the prison of dead souls,

I sit with broken hearts

And I speak the language

Of old ghostly souls

Who died before their time,

Bickering over a second chance.

But look at me now…

I had no chance

So I sit in the dark

And drag my cranky limbs

To the shadows of tomorrow,

To plea, I never came

Nor was I given a chance

To stay in the world of the living.

My screams were not heard,

Though my screams can be heard

From the bosoms of the underworld.

So cold and filled with unlived misery.

I wrote no note,

I know no song

Nor do I have a story.

I am cold and down

Deep in the world of the forgotten,

Without a name or clan.

No one knows my soul.

I wrote with a pen of blood

Filled with a thousand disfigured souls;

Men and women who were never loved

Or given a chance by the perfect world.

Trapped In the pit of darkness

In the backrooms and graveyards,

In the background of perfect beings

Who shall be accepted by society.

I rhyme from an element of weakness

And I represent unsung heroes.

My pride deformed and lost

I say, let us wake up

And haunt the perfect world!