- Books, Literature, and Writing
Ghost of the Past
Trapped within the prison of my feelings
My mind creates a truth that isn't there.
The ghost of who I used to be--
She haunts me every where.
She whispers secrets, doubts, and lies.
Her eye is ever watchful.
She never sleeps. She watches still.
Her hands lie calm and ready.
She never blinks, or keeps her eyes
Upon a soul but mine,
Determined that my grave should not
Lie anywhere near hers.
Her mouth moves, but no sound is heard.
Her voice was never there.
But whispers, voices, still I hear.
(Vibrations in my mind)
Her soul was never lain in peace
And so she stays alive
Her presence ever lurking in
This heart which beats as mine.
This empty shell she left that day
She haunts both day and night.
Determined that her voice be heard
Although that voice is mine.
The words she never got to scream
She wails now in my ears.
Her shrieking, piercing cry
Forever maddening my soul.
She can't keep silent. "Listen to
Me now. I swear I'll die!"
Her words are deaf upon the heart
For whom the words were meant.
The one for whom the words were meant--
He lives forever still.
But yet will never hear her words.
So why she wails them still?
Today she's screaming louder now
Today her eyes are black
The pain she felt, the agony
Is surging through my heart.
My body is the instrument through which she gains her peace.
If everyone can see her through this body which is mine
Then maybe when I've served this use: then, maybe, she will die...?
But no. Her thirst of justice is too strong to satisfy.
Instead she is determined now I be her sacrifice.
I am her future; she my past. She will not let it be.
For I am moving toward a light which she could never see.
She rages, jealous that the joy I have was never hers.
The one she loved had never heard her cries; so now I must.
She will not let him go and so she will not let me love.
Her tears and pain forever will be manifest through mine.
God why she makes me suffer for the suffering she feels?
Oh that the day she died had been the day her pain did too.
Instead she passed that pain to me,
Determined that it live.
Determined that her justice be
Obtained at any cost.
That cost is joy; that price is love
The punishment—my death, my soul.
My slow and bloody torture
Is the only Sacrifice.
Well though she stands and stares at me
Her eyes filled up with pain
I turn to her and say to her,
Though shaking from the strain,
“No. Who I am, and who I love,
means nothing more to you.
Your fears, your life, your pain and guilt,
Went with you to your grave.
Your fears have no more hold on me;
Your pain died with you. Set me free!
I cannot live your life and mine
I cannot give you justice.
So go and rest, and rest in peace;
Your pain is not in vain.
The God that loved your soul and mine
Will recompense the pain.”
So with a fiendish shriek, she fades away; I watch her, still.
Her broken heart, her empty eyes still yet unrecompensed.
Still waiting yet for love to heal her heart misunderstood.
Still wondering when the pain will die, or if it even could.
And so she disappears to the subconscious of my heart
Leaving me to wonder if she hides now in the dark...
For after all, her fears were mine. Her present was my past.
And after all, I now possess the body she once had.