Haunted

What do you do when it hits you so softly straight between the eyes?
Do you turn back and look for the ghosts?
Haunted by the smiles and the tears?
Chase around the shadows of yesterday, and run to grasp the fading starlight within your fingers before it slips away and morning erases the memories of midnight?
Or do you tell yourself the same old lies, and walk away, like you do every time…
and all that remains is the fading cigarette smoke…

I just thought the ghosts were real and the carnival never stopped…