Ghost Walker

Mist covers the lake
I don’t think I’m awake
Over the water strides a girl
Around her neck were white pearls
White is her hair
Butterflies followed her everywhere
Her clothes are made of pure white silk
Her skin is like cold milk
The mist around her turns red with hate
And then the girl passes through a gate
To another world she seemed to go
To the land of the dead I seemed to know
I paused in thought; the gate lead
To the dead
“Wait for me,” I yelled
And through the gate I passed as well.

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