Journal 2

And then they roam the place,
like drops of rain pouring down your face.
A hand wipes the rain off your eyes,
this you feel but you do not realize.

It was hanging on the edge of the walls,
you crumble with it as it falls.
Each tiny fragment, the hand pulls for you,
only then you started to think, then you knew.

Then, you thought,
...would it stay and shove the darkness like the medieval knight?
Or would it cast you off once you are a fearful sight?

You let it be, you let it stay,
although you know it shouldn't be that way.
When the sun drew the air out of the evening you see,
that looking just at the eyes wouldn't be.
There would be times that it would flicker and almost die,
but when must you cover yourself a lie?

You tear all the thoughts that scared you out,
you bloat them, you beat them in a bout.
You threw the visor like a skin,
so it would know what's within.

It didn't laugh, it didn't scream, it didn't leave,
it stayed like you can not believe.

Ghosts are for grievers, lies are for ghosts--they haunt you down
..until you mind,
it heard the day and night as it eats the time.
Then you held the hand like you do with the ancient tiles...
and the tiny drops of rain withdrew into a thousand of miles.