!flaminghate

Ghosts are there wherever you go,
In the desert, in the rainforest or even in the snow,
Their bloody didn't run dirty,no rather it was clean,
But it didn't run pure,White? No it ran green,
Green for mercy? No green for pain,
Because green will blend with grass, just add a little rain.

Their ghostly robes are a sign of our past,
It seems unclear but it will never last,
They are our guardians, but not of the light,
They remind us of the coincidence of every single fight,
The last emotion on this battlefield was fear,
They remember the emotion on one day of every year.

They are our ancestors, and the victims of our lies,
They are silent mourners, you will hear no sudden cries,
They were never weak, but they'll be forever strong,
Even if in death they were thought to be wrong,
Everyones questioning if they are fake or real,
If only you could see their face, it shows the pain the feel.

One final statement before they leave this miserable place,
It was a shame they couldn't see the pain, shown by their face,
Never the less they knew their end was near,
Thats why they sat alone frozen by the fear,
Why does this punishment have to be forever?
Because even in death lovers are together.

GHOSTS.

CaulfieldQuestion

I like the third stanza.
"They were never weak, but they'll be forever strong,
Even if in death they were thought to be wrong..."
Are you saying that they wander the mortal plane or are you stating that they exist within us, where their image and influence is strongest?
I like the poem simply because you made me question, as a reader, the intent of the subject within the work.
They are standing, not speaking.
Very goth.
I like it.
Reminiscent of Bauhaus.

!flaminghate

Glad to see you liked my poem,
And about your question I can't answer it I don't know why.