Quiet
Drifting along
Unheard
Singing its song
…
Why does it stay to the shadows?
Why come be in the light?
People fear it’s hollows
Creeping in the pale moon night
…
People don’t understand it
Or they don’t even try
People reprimand it
But never bother ask why
…
It’s tried before
To be heard, be seen
But time has failed it
Like a flag on the shore
Old
Tattered
Unclean
…
The witching hour strikes
Once again it cries
Tears like acid
Burning rain from the skies
…
It’s mind so abandoned
Like the darkest part of the woods
Only it knows what happened there
Or does it?
It would tell you if it could
…
It can speak
Voice lost to time
Silence at it’s peak
Using the wind as its rhyme
…
The wind carries stories
As the years howl by
Stories of time
Where this ghost didn’t cry
…
This ghost was human once
A child happy as can be
But that was only once
Now it’s trapped in the trees
…
It’s searched for hours
Now it’s been years
Never finding a way out
Never in the clear
…
It’s trapped in this forest
The forest of the mind
I know this story well
For this ghost is none other than mine
…