Haunted
by Weeping Skye, 8-23-7

I am a haunted man
a hollow frame of bone and flesh
dead among the living
living among the dead.

I am a helpless creature
with nerves and wounds exposed
tortured day and night
by the devils in my head.

I’m hiding in the graveyard
of the past in which I live
skeletons in my closets
demons in my heart.

I’m tormented by strange sightings
as I gaze into my mirror
they’re hollow eyed and ghastly
never eager to depart.

I’m frozen by the chill
an eerie presence in the room
of ghosts of past regrets
always taunting in their chase.

I am awaken by the screams
of dreams trying not to die
clawing for the hope
they will not be erased.

And then I see her ghostly figure
demon/angel dressed in black
lips of ruby red
skin as white as snow.

She danced across my tombstone
flowing dress like demons wings
wicked smile upon her face
holding tight so I won’t go.

Fearful I reach up to touch
the shadow of the one I loved
cold and distant, ever near me
in my heart, and in my mind.

She is but a mist, of what she used to be
fearful of a life of living
dying daily in her dying
hoping death will be so kind.