I've heard the tales of tortured ghosts
and it always made me wonder why
so many folks think there's only one
that leaves the body when they die.
As I've made my way through this life,
it seems I've left many ghosts behind.
Pieces of me still haunting the scene
of every time and place I was unkind.
Some ghosts were saved by forgiveness
But others are still out there wandering, lost
Because I didn't know one word or deed
Would demand such a heavy, terrible cost.
I've prayed that I could turn back time;
that there was some machine or lever.
But time can not be bargained with.
The things we do stay done forever.
But if I could, the first place I would go
would be a clinic when I was seventeen
where an innocent life was cut away
and I was too confused to intervene.
I didn't know it then but part of me
was cut out and thrown away, too.
Even now, there's a hole in my heart
That can't be filled no matter what I do.
I've made plenty of other big mistakes
but that's the one that hurts the most
because there's no way to say I'm sorry.
How do I ask forgiveness from a ghost?
So what's the moral of the story, you ask?
Why not write about what's good instead?
I suppose I'm hoping, like Marley's ghost
that some of my own chains might be shed
If I can prevent some reckless, foolish act;
some angry word that need not be spoken.
Then maybe somehow I'll finally be forgiven
and someday, my heart may be unbroken.
Beware, friends, for the damages caused in life
are paid for in full and there's nowhere to run
from the words that can never be taken back
and the deeds that can never be undone.
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