Ghosts

They come back at the strangest times. 

~ Please fade away. ~

There's always ghosts inside our heads.

They leave such taunting memories.

They haunt us most when we are in our beds,

Trying to find peace for once in our sleep.

They come back in flashes time to time.

We are never quite so prepared.

We think we're healed, but they plague our minds,

Mixing into the safety of our present beds.

The past is behind. "Leave it behind," we say. 

Are we ever fully done with a moment?

The ghosts always seem to find their ways

Back into our present sacred moments.

They bounce off the porcelain walls.

They leave echoes of traces within us.

You can't deny they've left a mark on all

The conscious life you are living.

They seep their ways back into our lives,

Like some disease we have been treating.

We think we had wiped clean our minds,

But they seep back into our every thought.

Everything is better now. Why do the ghosts still seep

Into our rooms at night when we're safely guarded?

Everything is better than it could ever be.

Why do they still taunt us in our peaceful sleep?

But they come in here and there, in full waves.

We become hindered by our inhibitions,

But they were the ghosts of yesterday,

Sometimes tempting us, wishing for a change. 

A single scene can make them come flying in.

But you just have to push them out.

The ghosts are figments of your imagination.

They're not real, only imaginary reminders of the past.

Imagination is nothing compared to reality.

The ghosts are trying to convince you otherwise -

To be back in the state of living in memories.

But you can see the future without them.

Echoes on porcelain walls are soon all they will ever be.

The ghosts will no longer have any meaning

To us, as we lay down for our peaceful sleep.

They are merely figments of distant memories.