POEM: I, Ghost

cobble stones & lonely roads
built before I was born

i walk them —
not seeing the ghosts,
and thus feeling that I’m the ghost —

a hot-future injected menace
pumped into a world in which I have no business,
a world whose pace & peace I disturb

i am the ghost of winters future,
and I don’t know how I got here,
but I know there’s no return

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