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 rage, it's own shame for it's part in this awful game
Hurting other unaware, doing as all ghosts could do
Watch as dirty finger tips made filth of another's ghostly air

Thrashing and gasping is all the little ghost could do
Cries of apologies, unheard by the other weeping ghost
This was the eldest of them all
Seen this awful game of shame, played this game far to many times
Could do nothing but weep and wither for the friendly finger tips it was housed by

We all have a ghost at our finger tips
It's the trade, the mark, and the scars we leave
You don't know it, your unaware, but your ghost hurts just as much as you can
If you decide to use your ghost to haunt, to curse, that's on you
None can stop you, but it's a choice
Your mistake, one that you made and you alone
People can forgive, but they will never forget.
© Akki42