Ghosts

Not so different,
But the resentments
Are oh so real,
Hatred at the past,
With a frustrated future.

I try to forget it all,
The many colorless days
That have occupied
These last years,
Yet, they are always present,
With performances every night.

With my days
Filled with yesterdays
And last year,
I wonder sometimes;
If I believed
In the future more;
Maybe I would believe
In the past less.

by Sandra Osborne

Comments (4)

I've added this one to my favourite poems
Conveys obsessions wiith one's own past so well that the feeling is contagious- Am acheing with sadness and wistfulness.
Lovely. Glad to know that someone can express their feelings (and incidentally, mine) so well.
Last stanza is a humdinger! Very well done. Now we all need to cheer up and sing the song of the future, where the next love at first sight is only a blink away....... H