Ghosts

A Poem by Justice Smith

Description of my experience.

Ghosts are real.
They exist in the cracks of a heart that has been shattered and glued back together so many times that it occasionally forgets how to feel.
They hide in the shadows of yesterday's pain, replaying the records of things people said just to see how much they can make you bend before you finally break.
They lurk in your sorrows of today, borrowing money to gamble away in a game of depression, betting that suicidal thoughts will lead to actions that will increase their ranks. They enjoy the high stakes.
They dream of tomorrow's fear, making guesses as to what will come next and how close you are to your last one, hoping that something will make you decide that you are done and no longer want to face what is coming near.
So I know ghosts are real, because mine haunt me every day.