My room's ghosts

1. Who I am?

I

Where are souls from?

Have you ever wondering it?

I was murdered 

I was almost 17 and smart 

and loved nature, of all kinds, 

can almost say of all kinds.

I would introduce myself,

 but I don't remember my name, 

I only have fragments of me,

perhaps was Josephine or Nancy, 

maybe Jessica, I don't know,

 whenever I hear a new name 

I try to remember if it could be mine; 

I think that's what hurts me the most, 

to snatch what I was once named with. 

What makes it seem that you exist

to have a name.

II

I remember well when I met him

I was upstairs with my notebook of flowers,

 I recollected and classified them, 

I liked to their taxonomy

my mom spoke to me, 

ran to the window and opened it, 

and he looking up.

III

He started to come more often,

my parents used to buy him firewood

and the weather it was getting colder and colder.

one day he stayed for dinner, 

they liked, but I couldn't, 

I could feel something inside him, 

something that could absorb me 

if I got too close.

IV

I had a dream, before my birthday came, 

I was in a field full of flowers,

 and there was a sunflower,

 it looked strong and it's petals were so golden, 

I walked towards to it, 

but it seemed that it was moving away, 

it looked smaller and smaller, 

I ran to reach it,

 but it was getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared, 

just before to  touch it, 

from the tall grass came a golden butterfly,

 got on my nose

 and go away.

V

I went to the market on my bicycle, 

when I returned, my home it was burning on,

 I got off my bike and I ran, trying to go inside, 

I had to see my parents,

 but there was nothing else, just a flames.

Then I couldn't breathe and woke up here.

VI

It's hard to talk to someone since then, 

not many can enter, can't see me, 

and long ago I can't see myself.

VII

He used to cut me, I know he killed my parents,

 even if I never asked him, are those things that you know

 and what don't need to confirm.

Since then, the most vivid memory I have, 

is my dream.

Never anyone else called me, 

never more I came back to hear my name,

 I think that, never more I existed again.

VIII

Few have seen me since then, most of times I'm here,

 where they locked me up, and others,

 I achieve to be outside for a short time 

and I see new things, 

things that I don't know how they work, 

I come back and they aren't, 

everything is timeless, 

we're the leaves that fall from the molting of a tree.

IV

I don't remember my death, every time I think it in, 

I feel on a swing, 

in where each time raise further towards up, 

only that I never more came down again.

X

I loved nature, of all kinds, 

can almost say of all kinds.

In memory of all the unknown people, victims of torture and murder.

.

.

.

I saw her in some dreams, I thought they were just dreams until my 10-year-old cousin saw her (2008).