Mausoleum of My Memories

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

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