There's a ghost at everyone's finger tips
It leaves a mark, a scar, a trace
Many are unaware of this ghost
Some grace you with a ghost for a smile
Some disgrace you with a ghost for tears

This ghost, unaware of it's purpose
Wonders and wails, for the next friendly finger tips
Hoping to be met with a gentle smile
This is the youngest of the ghosts
It wasn't quite ready for the World, much like most

This little ghost was held by finger tips of shame
Confused why the finger tips always pointed in blame
The little ghost was full of it's own...