[Might lengthen this poem later. Idk]
Woke up this morning, first of October,
the leaves will turn brown today, they say;
That's the same thing they said last year.
When I look out of my window, however,
the leaves still look pretty green,
and it's only my soul that seems to be
solely in monochromatic grey, dull, empty, and blank.
They say Halloween will be here soon,
and by the thirty-first of October, they say
all the ghosts will be at their strongest.
My ghosts, they don't ever leave me;
They're permanent residents in my mind and heart
and an unwelcome but persistent presence in my nightmares.
They will forever haunt me, regardless of month or year.