Ghost

Ghost

Sometimes I think I drowned

In an ocean of unshed tears

From the wellspring of my soul

That I’m nothing more than a ghost

Haunting a would be life

A figment of my own imagination

Wandering a world where sticky tendrils of time

Weave between golden clockwork

Every second heaving to be passed

Moments stretched to breaking

Shattering in to sharp shards

Icy crystals only I see

Glinting in the in between time

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Sara Parker-Fuller