Ghosts…

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Yeah…

They live in my closet,

And yours too,

Don’t they?

There are nights, when I wake up,

Lying in this pool of sweat,

Or… is that blood?

I never chose to know…

Those eerie nights, I hear then growl,

Or… is that, their kind of a scream?

I never chose to know..

They must stare at me, from the creek and crevice,

Of the worn wood,

To know that, I am trembling with fear,

To know that, they need to howl,

Sing those tears.

There are days when I hear them knock,

Knock on my mind,

Knock me, off my ground,

In a ditch of worms,

Eating me up.

Perhaps… they’ve been dead since the dawn of the last summer,

But they are waiting for me,

To bury them,

… And, what am I waiting for?

The night of the next winter?

They are dead, yet alive enough,

To have an appetite,

To fantasise a feast,

the want… to feed on my soul.

They are dead, yet alive enough,

To be ridiculed for their deeds,

To be cursed for the gore,

Yet… to be called a part of my heart,

The corpse of a dead Ghoul.

– Gauri Walecha