My grandma was the first of us to devise our emigration plan.

She was also the first of us to be buried in a foreign land.

Will her ghost stay here with our new generation, will she roam alone?

Or will her ghost rest with our ancestors and find her way back home?

I didn’t realize I was the first of us to be born here when I was younger.

Maybe we’ll make a new land to live in where the footprints of ghosts linger.

We live in a land where the footprints of ghosts linger, A place where echoes whisper beneath the ground, The past walks with us, silent yet near, Fingers of memories, lost and profound. Each step is traced by the shade of the past, A world that moves forward but cannot let go, The air thick with the things we’ve outlasted, The shadows of lives we’ll never fully know.

We’ve danced with our demons and kissed the rain, But as we walk on, we cannot forget the stain— The choices we made, the roads left behind, All the dreams that once crossed our minds. And still, we live in a land where the footprints of ghosts linger, Echoing through time, touching hearts with a finger. And though we may march, we’ll always turn back, To the ghosts we’ve become, and the footprints we lack.

What matters in this world? Everyone, and everything.

Every action leaves a mark. an imprint, a trace.

Everything which has existed, though maybe now forgotten, has done its part. and maybe by now, you forgot her face.

But you won’t forget everything she did for you. How she made you laugh after you felt empty for weeks. Or how if you wanted to do something, she would do it too.

Even if someone—or even something becomes a distant memory, Their impact will forever be reflected on the world.

Because, we live in a land where the footprints of ghosts linger.

Perhaps it was always meant to be this way Two hearts walking different paths As if I was always meant to leave you behind

Perhaps we were always meant to be nothing Like sand castles, we built ourselves up Only to let the ocean drag us apart

Perhaps I was always meant to feel the ache of you Guiding me always to seek the light of others Instead of lingering alone in the dark

Perhaps we were always meant to be recorded only in words, a love never given form Perhaps we were always meant to be an echo, adding memories to every lost days Perhaps we live in a land where the footprints of ghosts linger

We Live in a Land Where Ghosts Footprints Linger All along the ground are the footprints that won’t go away They’ve tried everything to make the footprints go away but nothing works I’ve been walking past the footprints for years now Always trying to think of ways I can make them vanish Then once when I was walking past I though “Nobody has tryed covering them with the dirt all around them” I tried it and it worked finally the footprints were gone I kind of missed them though So I uncovered them and didn’t tell anyone about my discovery So they stayed there for many many many years after that With no one even thinking about covering them with dirt

In a land where shadows dance on walls,
Where the past and present blend and blur,
We walk on paths of ancient calls,
With the footprints of ghosts that stir.

Every breeze carries whispers old,
Tales of those who lived and died,
Stories of courage and hearts so bold,
Echoing where the spirits abide.

The trees hold secrets in their bark,
Their leaves tremble with unseen sighs,
In the night, the world goes dark,
Yet the starlit whispers never lie.

We tread softly on this sacred ground,
Aware of the lives that came before,
In their silence, we are found,
Connected by an unseen shore.

For here, in this land of memories deep,
The footprints of ghosts linger still,
A reminder of the souls we keep,
And the stories that time will never kill.

We live in a land where where the footprints of ghosts linger.

That’s why I see you everywhere. In the halls walking with that smile on your face In the choir room singing with such grace At your house where you spent your final days.

Even the cardboard on the ground keeps your memory around And when someone asks for a hug I can’t help but think about breaking down And now when I see someone walking I can’t help but think about the last time I heard your sound.

And I can’t help but wonder if I did this to myself, I highlighted my hair and made it shorter to make it look like yours, got new glasses that remind me of yours, even my smile in pictures look just like yours. Why do I torture myself like this?

Is this my way of letting go? Or just keeping you here? Maybe it’s time to let go, maybe it’s time to move on. Everyone else has, if I ask someone walking down the street who Lillian was they will shrug and just keep on walking.

They say the final stage of grief is acceptance, but it seems to me it’s just an endless cycle. Denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, but no acceptance.

If I accept that your gone, then you’ll be forgotten.

non existent.

So I’ll just keep on living, with my (_your) _glasses, and my (your) hair, and even my (your) clothes, even friends at school say I look like your, and I think it’s because I don’t want you to be a ghost any longer.

I’m sitting here looking over at the seats we sat at Looking over to the ghosts of our past dancing around the table I see them smiling and laughing They’re mocking me with the things i don’t have The things that I long for

It’s a haunting sight I can’t look away from Wishing I could go back to a a world where we were all together laughing in that booth

No matter how hard I try They won’t stop haunting me in my everyday life Everywhere I go We live in a land where the footprints of our ghosts linger

I am haunted by my demons The things of nightmares in my mind They tell me there’s nowhere to hide Regrets are powerful The demon in me says I should have been there I should have held your hand I should have told you it would be okay You are not content with what happened I understand I wish there was something I could have done too Fate pulled you from my grasp You screamed Oh how you screamed I can still hear it some days But I know you’re not really here You’re on the other side of the veil And yet still I know you’re here somehow You’ve imprinted on my life in ways that are permanent You’ve left footprints on my heart; my mind We live in a land where the footprints of ghosts linger

Somber notes ring out, Marking time and counting steps

Counting, catching, calling, The waifs that lose their tether.

Imprinted upon the mind, Sordid twists of vines evergreen.

Tightening… Tightening… TIGHTENING!

Unable to breathe, Unable to stay, No longer the desire to be.

Silver flashes of thunder bolts, Paints agonising red, Unzipping the subtle shadows.

Bead of a tear, Drop of sweat, Shuddering relief.

New mouths gape, Gasping in oxygen’s burn, Until pain morphs to pleasure.

Pleasure born from torment, A constant want for feeling, Found only in light’s darkness.

Giddy, dizzy, drunk, Sweet iron rivers flow, Downwards, only downwards.

Tributaries collide, Bound for passing seas, And Winter’s eclipse.

Windows slide shut, Weathering the storm, Which batters every synapse.

Someday Spring will bring Silent reveries, Of phantasical love…

A warmth that never came, For not all are designed for connection, An aching isolation.

Hold on a little while longer, ‘Til the day where freedom breaks, It will come

                And they will never
                Touch you again
                Slipping beyond the veil

Life becomes death, As death becomes life, We live in a land where the footprints of ghosts linger.