When we die,

We don’t need anything.

We walk to our deaths as we are,

With nothing to hold us down but a

Small chain of memory wrapped around our minds.

It tugs as we walk towards our fate,

Begging us to come back

To live them one last time.

Our chain of memory

Tells us we can’t live without it.

It’s when we finally

Detach ourselves from

The chain that we die.

So I will hold my memories tight,

Wrap them around the palms of my hands

Tie them around my ankles.

I will refuse to leave them behind.

And that’s why I’m stuck here,

Refusing to live in the present

Or die in the past.

They keep me fastened to the earth as

A ghost.