Proof of Ghosts
Black and blank
Void sometimes
In the last row
Of the file cabinet
Of your mind.
Pictures of your ghosts
Proud snapshots of
Cruel faces
Sneering at you.
The ghosts are your proof
That the bad things
Actually happened.
You shred them
But they appear again
Sneering more
Cruelly than ever.
They pop up
In your story
Haunting things
And relationships.
You have to talk to them
You have to figure out
How to put them to rest
Before they become too restless
And take over your mind.