I feel like a specter, haunting halls once trodden
A shadow cast where light once burned bright.
I stalk the ground where familiar footsteps once trekked.
A funny feeling, to feel like a ghost in a land of memories.
For really, I am the one who walks in the hallowed halls,
And it should be the ghost of myself that hides in the shade
Yet, I can’t shake the feeling that I am walking on sacred ground.
My steps should not be flanked by lockers but cold-faced statues of angelic visages.
My heart is weary and sullen over what once was.
Will I turn the corner and be met with my own face?
Will I stumble onto myself where I once stole kisses from forbidden love?
Will I sit at the feet of my first mentors who so formed my innocent soul?
Here I find myself in the mausoleum of my memories,
A tourist from the future looking at who I was.
Like looking into a mirror, who I was looks at who he is to become
