An hour of spirits moan

I can tell you that it is a bitter thing to be a ghost.
A ghost does not know what he is nor how he should act.
This especially is true of a ghost that has no place to haunt.
(Clifford D. Simak)

***

As I drift in the air like a haze wisp,
Darkness calls my name with impatience.
Rising sun dyes in crimson my contour
To immerse me in nightmare forever.

What I feel, what I see
Seems so weird to me.
Am I spirit, condemned
To be pale and unreal?
I remember the time
When I bathed in sunshine.
Now I hide in the dark
And avoid any light.

Even now I can feel
Taste of blood on my lips.
When my payback is done
You'll be gone in eclipse.

Out of night I will come
Holding fear in my arms
To forever lock-up
Wicked souls in a dawn.
After death I obtained
Eerie power of wraith.
So wherever you flee,
My revenge will be there.

I have no place to haunt!

But soon I will not be alone in my such a grief!
In the realm I dwell you will stay with me for eternity!
Oh, I bet you wouldn't like such a company!

You were too much to fight!

I was caught at night without hope to save,
Without chance to flee. Overwhelmed by gang of relentless thugs
And was hanged at once just for pair of rags.

And rotten aspen was my last resort,
And hempen rope caressed my broken neck.
You stood around and enjoyed the show.
I doubt you enjoy my coming back!

Even now I can feel
Taste of blood on my lips.
Retribution is done.
Praise eternal eclipse!

As we drift afar the horizon,
Darkness calls our names with impatience.
Rising sun dyes in crimson our contours
To dissolve us in nightmare forever.