I’m sorry, but, ghosts are not scary.
They live inside me. They live inside you.
And without realizing, they consume us whole
Of course, they are here to destroy
But the destruction..? It’s so silent
And silence, so to say, is never scary.
These ghosts, they are not like monsters at all
Not even close to appearing evil or disastrous.
I am sorry, but, ghosts are not scary.
Once, they forwarded me their hand
And we ended up building a friendship together.
They told me their secret
Of being disguised as self-doubt, anxiety and anger.
And I told them mine; of being vulnerable.
Wish to know their hiding spot?
It’s beneath our skins, inside our hearts.
I am sorry, but, ghosts are not scary.
I think we have developed an in-depth understanding of each other.
They told me, “We ourselves are suffering
which is why we make you suffer.”
I sympathised. I think so do you.
And us being ever-so-welcoming, we let them in.
Ghosts of me. And ghosts of you.
I am sorry, but, ghosts are not scary.
Not to me.
I’ve been acquainted with them for far too long now
They’re as much a part of me
As I am of this world.
Though just a tiny speck,
but effortlessly infinite within.
I am sorry, but, ghosts are not scary.
Once, they forwarded me their hand
And we ended up building a friendship together.
I even told them my secret of being vulnerable.
They are… not scary.
How can they be?
Yet I am afraid.