Ghosts of the Past

As the wind outside soothingly plays its own melody

Branches tick against the window to create a serenity

The atmosphere is damp and filled with a certain tension

The four men stare at the letter and none dare mention

The thoughts that glide through their head

Their comrade in arms is now gone is now dead

Suicide by the very gun he served his country with

Without him, the army’s arsenal would not be fully equipped

Decorated with medals of bravery a hero to everybody

Also crazy but only those that knew him say that in honesty

Among his band of men he was known as the bringer of hell

Scared beyond their senses by the mere stories he would tell

But all of his stories had a reoccurring event

They all centered around this one event


He had seen his share of murder he has had his fill of blood

You could tell from his eyes whenever he would say “I’m good”

He also kept saying if I am to die it will be by my own hand

I will not cry cause my death is planned I already know I’m damned

But when this happens, be sure of this one fact

If I haven’t found peace in my life I will be back

He was right we can feel his presence in this room

Rage full anxious to continue to bring doom

None of us believe in ghosts but this chill down my spine

My hairs in the back of my neck his face imprinted on my mind

I can feel his eyes burning through my soul an unknown pain

As I in all my anxiety say his name

“Damn Richard”

This letter you left us we all relate to it all been through it

We share your pain there is no need for haunting us with it

Your body is in the morgue after some time we will let this rest

Damn man from the five of us you were damn sure the best

Reads the letter again

“They say I’m famous among my men for never showing mercy

That they don’t respect me but are scared of me

That’s fine with me but let me at least explain why I am this way

My whole merciless attitude actually started on that one day

The day that I murdered my second man

As his soul left his body I saw the first man

The first man I killed the first man that fell to my gun

After I murdered him I kept asking “myself what have I done”

But they told me it gets easier after the first time

But with the third again his face popped into my mind

Fourth and fifth the same

Every one of them the first over again

I kept killing the same man

That day I knew I was damned

And in my twisted mind, I figured what every killer would

I can kill as much as I want and as much as I could

Because if in my mind the same man keeps dying

Then in my mind also the same family keeps crying

So there is no need to feel remorse

But after time I wanted to change my course

I wanted to get rid of this face because it started haunting my dreams

I couldn’t find a restful place my heads was filled with terrible screams

So again my mind figured out what needed to be done

if I ever again needed peace this is what needed to be done

Find the man that looks like my first man all I needed was a clue

So I believed in the theory that in the world there are two of you

But place after place city after city state after state

No result until something told me it was too late

Be it intuition or my hope leaving me

I refuse to live any further with this face haunting me

So without peace in my heart, I will leave this cold place

And in hell, I will meet my ghost with his face”


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