Poem

GHOST by MwsR, a ghost’s Perspective

I’m such a clever ghost

I wait and listen to see who comes in

Before I start my ghosting again.

The many conversations that I hear

You would not believe me

It creates a sort of entertainment, you see.

Knowing things that are better left unsaid

Listening to that, inside of this head.

Being a ghost isn’t all it is cracked up to be

Noone comes and visits me

Noone wishes me a good day

Sometimes I want to lay

I never get a break

Not even a second or two

The forces that push me often ensue

I eat nothing

Feel almost the same

I can’t even remember my name.

I often float right through doors

I lavitate above floors.

My instincts provide me with a drive

I don’t need to over emphasize

I’m scary, all of my own accord

People often see me when they are bored.

I have no control over days or months

I just go through somehow, call it a hunch.

Paying no attention to ghost busters

I often even make them very flustered

They think they can control me

Ha, not even I do that, you see

My purpose in being is to strike up your imagination

To go throughout this nation

And create chance meetings

Provoke enlighted greetings

Not to mane you or take over you

That is not at all what I do

You’ll see me when the lights dim low

In a shadow

You might even hear my rustling through things

Just never really know what I’ll bring

Look for me

Maybe say “Hello”

You’ll never really know me though.

I haunt, I float, I hover, and even stay remote.

A ghost of a ghost, a clever one at that.

Don’t forget the welcome mat.

Nothing really stays where they are not welcomed.

Unless, you ask them to.

That is what a person’s imagination will do.

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