Ghosts

An Ugly Metamorphosis | May Tarii | Digital

Ghosts by Piere Smith

Hold tight the thin sheets.

Stare into the empty darkness.

A consuming all eating monster of fear,

Built up by the amounting stress.

Ghosts grasp gently at frizzled, fried hair. 

Tugging their strands gently in an act of comfort.

Unable to do much but watch,

A life built on a fragile court.

Walk carefully on rope strung above the creek

Crocodiles snap at careful words dancing across,

Failing to comfort the soul of one 

They believed they emboss.

Regardless of the accomplishment

Sharing my thoughts was not a thing to vow,

Though it helped push me to today.

This is me now.