Tales of Torment: Ghost Stories

my past has a present for me,

and it's regret

it's the voice in my head that says the most to me

telling ghost stories the moment the moon comes up

it's the shadows of my shame that continue to boast to me

burning up my days, just a minute after the noon comes up

my past has a present for me,

and it's trauma

pictures in motion on constant playback, my focus fatally clings to them

showing ghost stories the moment the lights turn off

my only lighting is that, that the flashbacks bring with them

plotting stars across the filling void, only bright until they burn off

my past has a present for me,

and it's a free trip down memory lane

it's the gift of pain that waters the land that flowers these tales of torment

writing ghost stories with the ink that forever floods my diary

it's the rift between me and myself that rain fills, sourcing the power for such an assortment

singing ghost stories that give life to the blood that paints the writings in this library

these tales of torment are ghost stories, that some people still don't believe