Dear ghost,
No matter how much I run, I cannot run away from tomorrow. No matter how much I want to stay, I cannot stay in yesterday. The time runs. The wound stays.
I have learned of shame. I have learned of regrets too awful. I have learned of fall too fatal. Yet still I breathe because the world has always been as it was. It is me that have run with the clock. I am not proud of myself. I am just tired.
Yours even as I fear to be.