Are ghosts real? – A poem

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I lay wide awake

Eyes focused on the white ceiling

Thick white curtains drawn in

Surrounded by sky-blue walls

Enveloped by a fuzzy grey blanket

Cars droning somewhere distant

Here, the lights are off

The night wants me

To go to sleep

 

And I want to obey its commands

I want my eyelids to drop

And dig down to touch the back of my eyes

If only I could confront

My own shadow

My shadow that is my own

But also a stranger

My shadow that is a part of me

Yet also an entirely different entity lurking in

The deepest depths of my mind

 

If only I choose to live alongside

Rather than in fear of

My very own shadow