A ghost came back into my life the other day.
Granted I wasn’t trying to keep it away.
But I call it a ghost because it’s dead to me.
My therapist says it’s the cause of my PTSD and anxiety.
And the panic I felt means they’re not wrong.
Up until now I thought I was strong.
But just because I’m incredibly stressed,
my stomach turning and my chest compressed.
It doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly weak and placed back at square one.
The years it was away was like hitting a home run.
Now picture this, the ghost’s the ball, and iiit’s outta here!
The bases are loaded and I’m the players, scoring points while the fans cheer.
It seems eventually the ball rolled back and bumped into my shoe.
I might’ve initially jumped in surprise but I’ll tell you what I’ll do.
I’ll punt that ghostly ball away without so much as “Adieu.”