Rub your eyes
It will still be there,
The body of the person you destroyed,
The death you drove home that night,
The silent whimpering you didn’t hear.
But now it sticks to you
Like a thousand burrs you’ve walked through.
If I could extract the soul I attached to you,
But you’ve got your fingers curled around its wispy tail.
You moan and squirm asking for your freedom.
But I see the way you’ve been sucking down that ghost.
You pull upon its darkness to make you seem more dep.
You point and say
“I’m Haunted, I’m Haunted.”
“I can’t be anything but this brooding man.”
But you don’t have to.
That ghost is mine and not quite yours.
Regardless, you will hold onto
And claim it as your own
And that’s alright
Because I’ve got enough ghosts
On my own.