An Ode To The Ghosts Of My Past Poem by Not Long Left

Why do you not come to me anymore.
Do you no longer need to explore,
The moutains of mistakes that I made.
I am not well enough not to be saved.
I'd watch you dance on the ceiling,
as the car lights invaded the night.
Twisting and turning shadows,
fading and falling after the dimming of the light.

You would often surface after a heavy downpour,
emerging with the smells of the rain drenched floor
On the other side of the street would be a little boy,
who would wave to me.
Around his feet a ball and chain,
he would shed a single tear and shuffle of down the lane.

No matter how you came, the message was the same,
Remember, Reflect, redeem.
Do not hide within the dream,

Those Reminders, would help oil my rustys thoughts,
Whether they'd be cruel or kind,
Come back ye ghosts of my past,
This carefree life, is not made to last.