Ghosts

 

Take it back,

One step at a time,

Be sure to look forward,

In this state of rewind

 

Remember those faces?
The one’s you turned away?

Pray they don’t haunt you,

At the end of each day.

 

How about those voices?
Not the ones inside your head.

Those of your loved ones.

Because of you: they’re dead.

 

Keep going, there’s more to see.

Averse? You should be.

There’s that mother, littered in grey

You see the tears? She can’t feed her babe.

 

Here’s our last stop.

Go ahead, look in the mirror

Look at the face of greed,

Who’s iron fist �" the palm of fear

Author's Note

This story was originally written for Writer's Window, but was never posted. Therefore, I'm going to reuse the Author Note from Writer's Window...

Well, it may seem as if I lied about the branch into short stories, but I've actually been writing them. None of them are up yet, (but they may be by the time this finally gets up). Anyway, I've just been doiing more writing than usual, which could be a good thing. If I write poorly, then I'm afraid this is a very bad thing for the rest of you. That said, I apoligize. The poem above, talks about one thing. This had to be one of my more blunt poems, so I'm not gonna explain this one too much...(thats what I say now at least. Lets just wait till I'm done) I got the first stanza stuck in my head in the shower, and sprinted dowstairs drabbed in a towel with shampoo still in my hair afraid I'd forget it. (Many of my ideas are concocted in this somewhat haphazard manner of a sort) Once I had finally dried off and dressed, I got writing. Voila. :/ (That somehow seemed rather anticlimatic)