Poem: It Is A Ghost

A common Friday, 
not bad enough to be tragic,
not funny enough to be comic,
not good enough to be happy,
not unproductive enough to be 
a total waste of time.

Every method of human contact
can be used to thwart real communication,
which is the best way to lie
without really lying. 

An advice I gave, 
too conspicuous, too rational.
I know it's going to be rejected.
Why bother to give it then?
Just to rid myself of guilt later on
of not helping the best way I can. 
Or do I have other motives
that I wouldn't admit I have?

Let's hope you never wake up 
from the wishful.
That's a luxury your life's twists and turns
refuse to give you.
That's a deceptive knot your experiences
can't stop to unravel. 

It's October--
all kinds of phantoms and ghosts 
come out to play
in our mind, 
messing up our reality. 










 

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