Like the ghost walking the empty road,
The long boulevard of broken dreams.
Where sometimes it wants to be seen,
The ghostly existence thins, fades into translucence.
Lighter and lighter by the silhouette,
Soon it’s shade mistaken for nothing.
Longing for a voice to let all hear the ghost,
Only multiple footsteps thudding the pavements,
But no one can hear ghost talk.
A former writer never famous, rich or loved,
This ghost had a dream.
It writes with the madness of passion and forlorn,
A convincing statement for a conviction,
Though efforts punctured into dust.
So ghost walks the street boulevard of broken dreams,
Lost into the night,
And forgotten by time.
- Vander
Disclaimer: All poetry and fiction here are original material written by Vander. Please note that all text references, descriptions and indications are purely fictional (make-believe if you didn’t know what fiction is!) and is in no relation to any actual entities.