Another statistic, another ghost,
flesh, blood and limbs with an unwilling host:
tragedies encased in the cold of skin
everlasting querulous mannequins
rage against the hollow bones we boast
wails from ghouls living in the walls vibrate
ever trapped, left bodiless to deflate
in the end, what is left to be?
Eternally we shall never be free,
doomed inside of broken closets to shake.
by Megan Common (13)
Competition - The Poetry Trials
Copyright remains with the author.