There are ghosts holding on to our backs,
Stalking our feet with the traces of bleeding memories,
Unmaking laughter out of the jaws that yelled
For “Change” the day
We tucked a lesser evil into our hearts.
Father said they are emblems of unfulfilled promises
Eating our remains
Like vultures preying on fresh delicacy.
Mother whispered sweet tidings into our ears –
When you see a ghost in your dream,
Peel off the flesh of your back,
Stab your feet on the eyes of its shadow
For it wouldn’t come haunting you again;
These ghosts are totems of unpaid promises.
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