Spectres

A little piece about regret.

Ghosts appear and fade away

Sometimes they speak to me

Other times we play

They try to show me things I cannot see

I do not fear these apparitions

Question their motives

Or judge their decisions

Because in each one lives regret, denial and omissions

In truth I pity them

Because they are full of sadness and longing

Each of them lost

And none truly belonging

It is not these ghosts I fear

Rather it is my ghosts, those of my past

That haunt the precious memories I hold dear

And I contemplate in dread both first and last

For truly I am a man haunted and hounded

By a reservoir of shame

And this darkness is only compounded

When I try to break free from this net of blame

Why is it impossible to just forget?

To sleep at night?

Why can I not simply exercise all this regret?

Isn't that my right?

The End

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