A cliché is a cliché
At least that’s what they say
A feeling only makes you feel
Some type of way
The trees sway, and sway
As the wind blows down the way
And the leaves take flight
Following the breeze
Down the breezeway
And the alliteration aligns
With my emotions
This time
It all makes sense for once
But that’s a lie I
Tell myself
As I try to cry
To show myself that I
Understand something else
This thing,
Belongs to no man
Or woman or
Animal or
Plant
No such behavior has been exhibited by
A car or an ant
For I feel this feeling:
A cold touch (how cliché)
As if I’ve been swallowed
By the shadow of a ghost
A love lost
An undead host
A heart beats
Yet no blood flows
As I follow the shadow of a ghost