The frightening ghosts haunt us all,
Before we even learn to crawl,
Not the phantoms that live in the wall,
Not the ones making little children bawl,
But the petrifying ghosts of expectations that befall.
The spirits come to visit us at nights,
Once we have turned off all the lights,
Telling us nothing is going to be alright,
Snatching away the day’s delight,
These are the spirits of fears; of anxiety; of forbidden cries, that force us all to engage in a fight.
The echos of souls that make us sweat,
Which just won’t let us live our lives how we know best,
Keeping us tied like some sort of net,
Altering out optimistic mindset,
This is the soul of regret.
Still we get up, to focus on our aims,
Forgetting the times we acted so lame,
Yet somehow this feeling creeps up as if to blame,
Showing up uninvited at the doorframe,
Is the wraith of vapid shame.
We dream of light which turns to gray,
These ghosts whisper and never stray,
Our hearts, a cage where they forever stay,
No solace found, no words to say,
Just endless nights, the ghosts’ cruel play.
January, 2026
