The ghost of who I was haunts these walls.
Trinkets of my childhood placed neatly about.
Lost between the numbers and professional courtesies,
this new creature dwells. Her face like mine,
but paler,
Hollow.

The ghost of who I was wails under the fluorescent glow.
Screaming to go back to the warmth it once knew.
It claws at my scalp, digs it’s knees into my back.
Bending me like the wind does a tree.
Slowly sucking
at my soul.

When it’s gone I yearn for it,
the ghost of who I was.
For it is much kinder,
than the monster I’ve become.

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