Daunted Ghosts



I approach a locked door
anticipating the terror
lying in the darkness behind it.

Cautiously I open the door
and see a blurred creature
hiding in the shadows
snarling silently as I come closer.

My heart is pounding with fear
but all the ghost sees in my presence
is the determination in my eyes.

I switch on the lights
and walk around the ghost,
realizing it is only a memory.

I laugh at myself:
how can I be terrified of my own memories.
They have no power to hurt me.
The ghost dissolves in a puff.

Lights. Relief. Peace.

I enjoy the beauty and freedom of the room,
breathing the fresh air
that suddenly filled the space.
All shadows are away,
the creepy snarling of yesterday is gone,
replaced with a quiet aria of tomorrows.

I race to another dark door,
push it wide open and step in.
Puff.

What are my secrets?
What are my fears?
Memories.
My own memories.
Counterfeit ghosts.
Pieces of shit.




Soultrips

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