They wander through the halls of their past,
seeking to correct the mistakes they once committed,
They be a convict or victim,
They however won't be the last.
They wail in the presence of the living,
Jealous for they have a beating heart,
Desperate for a second chance,
They are rarely deemed to be forgiving.
Some see them as what they do,
Others claim to have spotted their glowing cast,
However we shall never know their true existence,
As their time already past.
They are the reason we fear,
When we saunter by looming, desolate mansions,
They are the chilling breeze in the air,
They are phantoms...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lost Phantoms are around us,24*7. Nice one.10