Upon the ruins bones lie
thorns overgrown as ghosts
cry.

The remains of my heart scattered
aross the land, here is where
sorrow lives deep within my
depressed mind.

The rivers are made from
flowing tears, life is fed by fear,
and the shadows of my former
selves linger here.

The ghosts loudly pound on the post,
the bed shivers and my body quivers,
hairs stand up on the back of my neck,
as a reminder the ghosts never left.

A quorum of the past gathers,
memories of what once was
crushing my future with its pressure.

I don't fit this mold they provided me,
now I am tightly squeezed and
under pressure.

©️ 2024 By Amanda Shelton