Matthew Walz: Traveling Home Poetry

The Last Remaining Ghost The last remaining ghost In a world bald and gone wrong, For no one wants to stay, And no one wants to play With all the children snug in the night, While their parents cap the evening And peacefully drift toward the dark. No one is judging them, Everyone is judging them, They can’t be themselves with the ghost in the room. “Stop staring,” “I heard a sound,”…

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