I'm a ghost and everyone knows it.
Peoples words flow through me at high speed.
People walk through me as if I wasn't there.
Who am I? Who was I?
Is this even real or is this just another dream, another nightmare?
Another death, or a new beginning?
The roses blossom and everything starts to get better.
But one day a twister hits and I the ghost is blown to bits.
My wrists are bleeding, tears a flow.
As I say to myself "Its time to go back to my world of other ghosts."
I say "Its been fun.  I'll miss you all."
As I close my eyes, and i fall.
But this isn't goodbye, and that's all.

I wanna take a leap.
I wanna down a drink.
I wanna run away from this sickness that tortures me.
I'm wallowing in the screams.
Not aloud to cry.
So I make up with a sharp knife.
Grabbing my last hope of relief.
I take my pen.
I tear it apart 'til there's nothing left but the spring.
Letting, letting  the blood flow hiding it with a white sheet.
Staining my shirt sleeve a crimson red.