There were many things to blame,
Actions and words equally balanced,
The ones who mattered left,
some sailing over a lake of fire, stayed.
Charred for life, burned, reduced
And incomplete which will never change…
Faces haunt, for memories don’t die,
And on cold nights like this, come back…
The wind flips back the page
I’m ready to turn over,
And the chapter rewinds,
Before one passed receives a proper grave,
And threatens and curses.
The rain hasten and out of your window,
You see your own ghost,
Hanging from a tree,
As you ought to have died the first time,
Like everyone else around you does,
Giving up on everything.