Yesterday's memory is fading. Fading from bright to dull, in tides wading. In saying I was strong, you may laugh at me. But in saying I was brave: I can still stand tall with scars - unyielding, my spirit unbroken, my heart still yearning for the thrill of the chase. But it wasn't me, just the ghost of yesterday.
Today, I can try to smile at the little things. Today, I rise & see oppurtunity. Today, I shall live a ghost in my immunity.
Tomorrow, if it ever graces me, I will not regret. I will not turn back on today, nor yesterday. I will find my solice in letter and predictions. Tomorrow, if I am awake & alive, my indomitable spirit will blazes brightly, even in the face of death. Tomorrow, like any other day, I will live a spirit of liveliness. I will shock myself in words, action and politeness. Tomorrow, I am a ghost in silence.
I am a ghost, a paradox, dead yet living, a king in my own realm.
Yesterday, I was a trace of today. And tomorrow, a silhouette of now.
Constantly, I am a ghost. Always changing in smiles and shape, in hours and days. I haunt myself. Who I am, contradicts who I was and who I will be. And even though I know this, I will not cry, nor frown, and never ever change. For a ghost is a testament to the indomitable spirit that resides within us all. A foolish thing to be ashamed of.