I am a ghost

I am a memory

I am a prophet with nothing left to say

Bring me a rope

Bring me a casket

Something to climb or lay down in

I hate all these lines

I hate how they hurt me

I want to scream

But I'm not allowed. 

What do you want?

I keep asking

And the answers always the same

It always scares me. Always prepared me

For some sort of death I can't allow

And now it's all left me

Like a train which couldn't wait

Here I am. Waiting for the last death.

The last chance to scream allowed. 

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