People tell me ghosts aren’t real,
They only exist in my head.
The things I see, the things I feel
Aren’t the voices of the dead.
It must be my imagination
Because after we all die,
We go to heaven, hell, or other
But we don’t leave anything behind.
Well, I don’t know if that’s true or not
But let me tell you what I think,
Maybe ghosts are people left behind,
Or an image, a glitch, when we blink.
Or maybe they are something else
Because I promise ghosts are real,
They exist in our minds, things left behind
They are something we don’t want to feel.
Ghosts are what we make them,
They are visions we create,
Of lives left behind or of things that remind
Us of lives that we might predate.
But I digress, let me state my point,
We all create our ghosts,
They are the things from our own past
The things that bother us most.
Who knows what ghosts really are
But they follow us around,
They are memories we leave behind,
The ones we try to put to ground.
Thoughts, that much like ghosts,
Come back from beyond the grave,
History from long ago,Things better left behind, or erased.