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Rated: E · Poetry · Ghost · #2002884
I call it a poem


GHOSTS


There have always been shadows, though not as many as now.
Were there ever shadows of ghosts?
There's plenty of them now.
Shadows of ghosts.  The prey of the ghosts.
My shadow and theirs.
They prey on me and the shadows of themselves.
Ghosts, ghosts - everywhere now.
There are more all the time - ghosts and shadows.
The ghosts have plenty to eat.

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