I’ve been experiencing a haunting. I’ve beeen seeing a ghost.
He visits me sometimes when I’m alone doing whatever.
He looked familiar from a distance, but he confirmed that he was the ghost of my old friend Innocence.
He died too young.
He died with the seed of his dreams still waiting in his pocket.
Whenever he visits, we have long conversations about the times we spent together and the moments we wasted that cannot be brought back.
The sight of him frightens me about what I may yet become in this world now that he is no longer of it.
He is one from the past and we can only ever talk about the things we did and the people we once were.
He always reminds me that he cannot help me with my tomorrow because he does not have his own.
He is the face of wasted miracles.
It is so sad to see youth without life, living in the land of regret and sorrow.
Whatever kind of man I will become, I will forever be haunted by the truth that Innocence is lost, damned and bound to be forgotten.
Forever seems like a long time when the good continues to die, while evil prevails.
And I can’t seem to shake the thoughts of the evil that I am unknowingly capable of.
The evil that will be judged and accorded to me.
And it will be deserved. And that’s what gives it more weight.
That Innocence is gone and I did little to help him. That when he was here, I thought it would be forever.
That he asked me to help him learn how to bring his truth to fruition. I always sat there, saying I’d listen, but always responding by telling him why these dreams were impossible.
Saying, we’re too young to make it – but look, I didn’t know we weren’t too young to die.
But maybe if I believed when they told me, then the truths of death could have been our first reason to try.