A Haunting

There is a haunting I must confess

And haunt it does under extreme duress

It is not the thing or event that me defines,

But certainly, I’m choked by its prickly devious vines

I had not consciously willed nor sought,

Beginning no matter,

Only the end I fought

Of my own accord,

Why does this ghost haunt me so?

I seek the strength to just let it go