by Courtney Hough   Apr 9, 2020

They walk through me,
On all their daily strolls.
I yell that I’m here!
But they can’t hear what’s been told.

They can’t see me,
But they can see my actions.
Not seeing me,
But the light I hit gets a reaction.

I’m a ghost,
In the land of living.
Though I’m not dead?
My heart is still giving.

Nothing special,
Can’t hold any attention.
Nobody can hear my words.
My name? Not even a mention.

There are few of us,
Ghost who haunt you.
we prefer to be alone in haunting,
Listen for a clue.

We will whisper our thoughts,
No one will hear.
Be careful what you say,
Ghosts are always near.

when you cross over,
You’ll have mourners.
They’ll cover you,
And flowers will adorn.

But what for a ghost?
I’ll just die on the street.
You’ll never even know,
But feeling something on your feet.

We are already forgotten,
Long before we’ve gone.
But there’s enough of us,
The haunt will live on.


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Latest Comments

  • 9 months ago

    by Poet on the Piano

    The concept of being a ghost, yet alive, is clever and haunting in its own way. The way we can kind of wander this way among the living, giving parts of ourselves yet never given anything back. That can be exhausting, no doubt about that.

    Thank you for sharing this, and I think it's a powerful write about depression, how many people can pass us by and refuse our existence, refuse to even acknowledge we are here too, suffering yes, and deserve our voice to be heard in some way.

    • 9 months ago

      by Courtney Hough

      That was such a wonderful comment! Thanks so much for taking the time to review and read:)