Ghost of the College Loan
“Do you believe in ghosts?” Said a voice within my ear,
As each hair upon my skin stood still in sweating fear.
“Drip, drop,” said the voice to the tick-tock of a cuckoo clock,
“I walk along the sub-vocal shock that stalks your unheard talk.”
Sweat began to drip and drop from the mop of my own hair,
As this voice began to echo from whence I do not at all know where.
“Who are you,” muttered my muddled mind as my eyes failed to find,
The source of course of the voice inside that left my senses blind.
“I am the ghost that haunts you,
I am always there to see,
How and where and why you grew,
To be that what you now call ‘me’”
“‘Tis but a dream,” I said aloud inside my bed in which a lay,
In attempt to forget what this voice inside had to ever say.
“Don’t you dare try to forget,”
It said as if it were threat,
“That I am but your college debt,
And that you’ve not to be just yet.”
With that the voice vanished then,
And inside I felt suddenly dead,
For when I’m free from this ‘tis when,
My body has been brutally bled.
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