They prowl, they lurk and creep,
Waiting for me to fall asleep.
They love the hunt, love the chase
As they follow me place to place,
Continually stalking me.
They track me throughout the day,
Mapping out the perfect way
To pull me in and bring me down,
To push me in and watch me drown
In each polluted memory.
I run, I hide, I attempt to flee,
I try, but still I can’t break free.
They always seem one step ahead,
Waiting for me to slip into bed.
They won’t just let me be.
It seems I’ll die before I’ll win,
Which may be fair, cause then again,
The things I’ve done or never did
Are the reasons I will never rid
The ghosts haunting me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem