Your talk.   Whispers carry through the dark.   I didn't save anyone,   so why am I being crucified?      You buried me seven afraid that I may escape.   But I don't have to die to haunt you anyway.      I’m there.   I’m underneath the stairs.   "What’s that noise?"   It’s nothing but my ghost.      I’m the summer harvest,   before the harshest,   or winters you’ve seen.   You can’t escape me.