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The Omen, The Vatic, The Ghost

never much for roaming halls,  
they prefer the attic  
scratching paint from cluttered walls,  
the Omen and the Vatic  
 
missteps are his haunting ground,  
Omen weaves connections;  
adding in the likelihood,  
skewing my reflection  
 
specter of the future bright,  
the Vatic reads my cards;  
saying I will cut myself,  
then handing me the shards  
 
bringing with them fearful doubt,  
the future yet unclear;  
‘round the bend is farther still,  
the scale beyond quite sheer  
 
self-fulfilling prophecies,  
the past binds them to this post;  
they will haunt me ‘til I die,  
yet I’m the only ghost
Written by LunaGreyhawk (Jenn_Leigh)
Published
Author's Note
NaPo 2021 11/30. Also written for the Ghost Stories competition.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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