Last night I heard a ghost ravaging around,
It woke me up as they weren't quietest of sounds.
It was clambering through drawals of photos
of the history of all of our young poses.

It seemed determined to find the one
so it can no longer be in mourning.
But press to its heart a dear photograph
A cherished memory proven so worthy.

Was it looking for my brother,
before he committed suicide
Was it looking for my mother,
Before she died and suffered?

Or does it has a premonition
that I'm next in line for death,
I won't stop the reaper's actions,
as now I'm too tired to live.