The Obscure

It's a poem about the supernatural or paranormal activities which occur around us manifesting in the form of ghosts or ghouls.

They watch us all the time,
While lurking somewhere behind,
Flickering through the shadows,
They skulk in the unknown,
Their unseen presence never fails,
To tick off some false alarms.

Through the corner of an eye,
I spot their wavering,
Yet they wither away and beyond,
When the leery eye searches,
For their elusive trail,
In the pitch of the dark.

Faint whispers of their cries,
Reach my ears as tiny mumbles,
But I could never decipher,
Their rant which beguiles,
Ulterior drifts and bearings,
Which evade my mind.

Perhaps they are a fleet,
Hailing from the prox,
Yet Stranded in their past.
Or possibly they are,
The reflections of the agone,
Dwelling in our tomorrow. 

For some they are,
Imitations of what that breathes.
Though pale and reduced,
And there are those,
Who dismiss their very presence,
As a mere semblance run amok.

For most of us they exist ,
as the harbingers of fear,
Their mere mention instills malice,
In the meek and the feeble,
With a no more than a twitch,
They bring us down to knees.

Once I too among the others,
Was a demented victim of theirs. 
But now they present me with,
Nothing which could be viler,
Than what I have already faced,

And survived in this woeful life.