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by G.H. Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1623659
Jimmy was a ghost, and ghosts can't die.
Jimmy was a ghost,
nothing he wanted most.
He was outside worlds,
where he uselessly twirled.

It was known all 'round,
his mind was profound.
Now a ghost can't die,
so a ghost will quietly fly.

Fly until it is almost heard,
till reputation isn't slurred.
Jimmy was still a ghost,
So Jimmy ran to the coast.

All of Jimmy's peers now,
wouldn't raise one brow.
Anyways they didn't respect,
they would never reflect.

Jimmy was always runnin',
popularity he wasn't gunnin'.
What now has Jimmy done,
Jimmy has flown to the sun.

I hear some kids talking,
they saw Jimmy walking.
I say you can't see him,
you can only feel him grim.

A whimper Jimmy gave,
who no one would save.
Maybe Jimmy's in space,
maybe he still has a place.

But certain he aint' dead,
Jimmy just lost his head.
So Jimmy still flies on,
but still Jimmy's gone.
© Copyright 2009 G.H. (highwaychild20 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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