a_ghost_that_writes

Hi, I write poetry, but its almost never happy. Sometimes its fictional but usually its quite personal.

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  • a_ghost_that_writes 34w

    Screams

    I hear screams, screams screaming over screams and other voices trying to scream over top of those.
    They're all in my mind.
    So many jumbled words and none of them are nice.
    They're screaming at me.
    Screaming
    Screaming
    Screaming...
    Đł₴₲Ʉ₴₮ł₦₲ ₮₩₳₮
    N̶o̶ n̶o̶ n̶o̶ n̶o̶ n̶o̶
    ʎon ɔɐn'ʇ bǝ ƃood ǝnonƃɥ
    Y̷o̷u̷'r̷e̷ t̷o̷o̷ a̷n̷n̷o̷y̷i̷n̷g̷
    ₮ØØ ₣Ɽ₳₲łⱠɆ
    Ṯṏṏ...ṠṮṳṖḭḊ
    ʍɐsʇǝ oɟ ʇıɯǝ ɐnd ɐıɹ ɐnd sdɐɔǝ, ʍɥʎ don'ʇ ʎon do soɯǝʇɥınƃ nsǝɟnl ɟoɹ onɔǝ. ʎon ɐlʍɐʎs sɐʎ ʎon ɐɹǝ ƃoınƃ ʇo do ʇɥınƃs bnʇ ʇɥǝn ʎon'ɹǝ ʇoo ʍǝɐʞ ʇo do ʇɥǝɯ. ɔoʍɐɹd
    ©a_ghost_that_writes

  • a_ghost_that_writes 34w

    Perspective of Life and Color

    Sometimes I find myself sitting here wondering,
    Looking at so many things in life and thinking to myself,
    "Is this really all there is?".
    Some people perceive things in black and white, and others feel a rainbow, and sometimes just a dull palette of colors but at least there's still something there.
    All I feel is gray tones, empty gray tones.
    I can't diffrenciate so many things in life, I don't know what to think, and I find myself feeling as if everything is the same.
    I sit there in my desk chair and stare into the void of nothingness, and my god, is it a shame.
    A shame to have such a hard time seeing the world for what it truly is.
    Because I know that out there is a whole color spectrum,
    A whole world of things that only blend together into a feeling of a gray storm for me.
    Often, nothing even feels real and I sit there, almost waiting to wake up from a dream, but it never happens, see?
    Everything feels so blended together and I don't know how to perceive it,
    A world full of colors that I can see,
    But all I can feel is gray,
    The negative perspective never really goes away.
    ©a_ghost_that_writes

  • a_ghost_that_writes 35w

    The Light, The Prison, and The Warden

    Theres a light in the distance...
    I can see it so clear, and God, I wish it would just let me near.
    I reach,
    I sprint,
    I scream,
    I cry,
    And no matter what, that light never appears close by.
    I run as fast as I can, but the light moves faster, it doesn't come to me, but rather the latter.
    I just want to feel the light, just once, is that too much to ask?
    To be happy, to be free, to break these chains off of me?
    I'm tired of being a prisoner to my own mind,
    But depression is the warden, and it won't pass me by.
    Its always there, waiting for me to try, and I know anywhere I go, it's right behind.
    ©a_ghost_that_writes

  • a_ghost_that_writes 35w

    Zombie

    Zombie, little zombie,
    a tired corpse, an empty shell
    and nonetheless you feel like hell.
    Going about your day, tired as can be,
    Zombie, little zombie, you're just like me.
    Every day you feel so afraid, a shell of your former self, worsening day by day.
    Your memory worsens and your body weakens, you feel tired and empty, and in pain even.
    Almost nothing sparks joy, everything feels dull and gray,
    You grow sicker and sicker of yourself every single day.
    Zombie, little zombie, I know what you mean.
    I often feel the same, you're not alone.
    I'm sorry, little zombie, but you may never be free,
    Zombie, little zombie, you're just like me.
    ©a_ghost_that_writes