Ghost
Cold leather, false armor.
A corpse with Intangible bones,
exoskeletons linger among the dirt,
An overwhelming scent of decay.
Memento Mori.
Dread it, run from it,
it follows, so it goes.
You cannot escape Hades’ curse.
Sleep quietly, bask in your former glory.
Ashes of maroon candles,
rusted black chandeliers,
paintings of bleeding yellow roses.
Whispers cease in stone chambers,
Spirits demanding life from a fading fireplace.
Empty halls with echoes of violence,
Unruly noise of former faces.
Now you too will roam in silence.
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