Ghosts of my former selves

Ghosts of all my former selves,

Huddle in corners of my mind,

Some fight, desperate to get rid of each other,

Some mournfully comfort one another,

Rapid metamorphosis sends more shadows of my soul into the hell,

The hell that is my mind,

They edge around the boxes of thoughts

They prowl through graveyards of hopes, dreams and memories,

I wish they'd go away,

But sometimes I need them,

So that I do not become infected by reality,

Trying to find a niche in the human race,

For someone like myself,

Consumed by the vicious circle,

Until the day that I give in and die.

The End

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