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A lost ghost in the attic

 

A lost ghost in the attic

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In the attic

There was a ghost
The ghost was so lost

In his small mind

And behind of his eyes

From the good old time’s

He was meeting some people

They probably would not like

What he had become


He was stunned

Helpless and weak

He couldn’t no longer even speak

With the pen and the ink

For hours he would think

He catches on to a story

Maybe few words that go together

And it starts to grow

He used to be very fast now he is old

Slow and walking with a cane

From Life to Death

He pulls a sword from the sheath

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