The Ghost's of My Past.

This is a poem I wrote myself, for a competition on a writing website, I had to write something to do with a certain picture. (I shall try and get it on here).

If I should wake before I die someone out there will not care.

There are men around here who dare,

Dare to stare right at myself.

Like I'm a toy sitting on the shelf.



If I should wake before I die the men will follow,

Even into hell, The old and hollow,

Narrow trees or flames of hell?

What will await me? A life in a well?



If I should wake before I die some will cry.

I shall be rid of these men, but not for long.

My final words will be a song,

A song, showing why these men,

Must watch and torture me, but when?



If I should wake before I die the ghosts of my past,

Will leave me soon, like a cast.

The men they were evil, they attacked me,

They did it just to see,

To see if a human could live,

Live with the horror or have a memory like a sieve?

I am alone,

But have spectators, I cannot moan.

Some of them are young,

Some among,

Are just plain old.



If I should wake before I die,

Some will laugh, some will cry.

Some will never leave my side to let me die.



The Ghost's of My Past,

By jellyfish.