I am haunting the past,
my own,
and the others
who cast me aside.

Pearl after pearls before the swine found
back in the backyards of the backyard of time.
I am haunting the past.

The constant in me and at last or
somewhere near there
I share what remains,
the bain or the bane of my youth?
the pain of the truth that
stains the sidewalks with blood.

I am haunting the past and
I'm good at it.