poem

 Ghosts

I’m haunted by things that don’t exist

All the bad things I’ve done

In the past and the karma to come

It keeps me up at night

Chains clanking down halls

Fingernails scratching from inside the walls.

I pull the covers up over my head

And tell myself it’s just the wind.

I can live with it

Knowing it isn’t real

Anymore, that these ghosts

Can’t harm me tonight.

The wounds have already been inflicted 

And the executioner is on the way 

7/21/24