GHOST OF THE PAST.

When I think of the day,
My spirit is shut.
Slowly breaking down like a car,
You would say I'm a AMG.
My soul in destruction,
My heart as cold as hell,
I will carry my fire, of course.

Shadow walking with me but,
Mine still there.
I tried to ask for help but,
"Let him fall" they say.
I will raise like a Phoenix,
From ash to flesh.

Spirit of tormenting,
Leave my soul.
I belong to God and,
I AM IN HIS HANDS.

Either you die or live.
Either you try or fail.
Ghost of the past.


© Makaziwe Gotyana