Dead

Standard

I step through the

Threshold

And feel the ghosts.

They want to crawl under my skin

To make a home in my veins.

They want to cling to the walls of my heart,

Stop me in my tracks.

Screaming,

“Look back!

Look back girl!”

I do not know how to stifle

Them.

I turn round

Struggling to face myself in the mirror,

Expecting to see my child self.

I look up to see Mamas eyes

Instead of me.

And her voice in my mind over and over,

“I love you, but I do not like you.”

i would like to ask her what she truly meant

But she is dead and gone.

I cannot help but wonder if she would still feel the same today.

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