Once I thought it was just my imagination.
I hear them moaning in the night.
I see them in my sleep.
Ghost in the Attic of my mind.
They appear and they disappear
Memories of bad things and bad times.
Ghost in the Attic.
They come down from the attic.
Just to haunt my soul.
So many ghost I can not count them all.
One by one they take terms haunting me.
In my sleep and in my dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem