Ghost of My Father

I started shaking not in a good way. 

Like it was a bad thing I didn’t remember. Like I was having PTSD.

Like I could remember ghosts of their hands on my body 

But I had no control. I had no consciousness but the rumors kept spreading

And I get paranoid because I have no clue like there is a dark secrete. 

I just wanted their hands off me. I just wanted them to stop staring.

Cut off their hands and throw them in the river like it would be justice to a dead man walking

Cause it was asking for vengence. I had the Ghost of My Father. 

Published by Ms. Selective

Traveling Gypse with a Heartfelt Spirit.

%d bloggers like this: