Wishes, dream and all my aims are gone. I have been burnt down by my people, coz at times I was a clown. They hated me so bad that they ate me till my end. I screamed like zombies, they killed me like a prick.
Now these things are gone long back, yet I don’t feel dead. I often scream at nights and I wander at the deck. I’m not your myth, I do exist. You’ve often felt me while shivering, when you were scared of some swift.
Don’t be afraid, as I’m not here for my avenge. I’m moving helpless for the so called death, which I should have attained at the time I was dead.
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