
Saw a ghost
Who had long hands
I wondered what use were they
What would it touch
It would seep through the walls
Glide through the doors
Melt through all
Without a worry as such
But with such long hands
It felt awkward
With them dangling
With no way to feel or touch
It was happy one
But the long hands
Scared a few a little
And some a very much
Ghost with long hands
Floated and flew
Dragging his long hands
With a little bit of grudge
Interesting poem.
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Ha ha thanks. Indeed
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You’re welcome
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