I used to fear ghosts
Ghosts of people
Ghosts of pasts
Ghosts of memories
Ghosts of what could have been
Ghosts, I thought, were the essence of fear
Then the ghosts came to me
They did not come as pieces of mist
They did not come as bumps in the night
They came as reports
They came as bullets
They came as people
The resurrection of a strange evil
A past that should have been long buried
Haunting the spirits as well as the land
But it would never happen here
Who would ever have thought before
That the living are more frightening than the dead?