Ghosts Poem by Tyrone Wingfield

So many trailing those
Who were not ever deserving
Ohers made by their hand
Usually unknowing
Each sending painfull
Memories at full blast
Most of them overfilled
With the tears of our past

Haunting right around the corner
Refusing to be pushed out of mind
Like thin ice right below our
Feet, drowning us in histories so unkind
Thousands of frozen hands
With deaths grip around our souls
Forcing us to follow their demands
To feel the pains from days of old

Escape damn near impossible
From thoughts that pass through all walls
Their truths so undeniable
Even as each tear falls
Sinking back into the days
That were out of our controll
Or reflecting on past ways
That will always stain our soul

Every Ghost formed from their victims design
I long for the day that I'll be rid of mine