Some skeletons from the closet, ran towards the door,
fumbled on the carpet, fell flat on the floor.
Looked up in the cracked mirror, dipped in guilt and shame
Saw the face not so clearer, and it had no name.
The dead came alive and stabbed the alive dead,
the alive had no life, and the dead had no head,
There it stayed in the silence, wandering till the last,
the soul had no presence and the present had no past.
The spirit smirked at the drama, walked out and left no trace
the enigma wasn't an enigma, for him it was not a race.
They pinned the voodoo doll, tried killing the spirit,
the evil had a straight fall, it could not reach near it.
The emotions had a cut, they bled and had no words
the doors were all shut, there was a priest holding three swords,
And the holy water, that he sprinkled on the gate,
the priest got soon slaughtered, it was way too late.
Bruising the body and the mind, the wind of apathy blew so cold,
the scared soul stood behind, for the reasons no one was told.
One day the wounds got revealed, and they got healed so fast,
Lurking behind every shield, were standing the ghosts from the past.