am at my worst

Oh! It’s haunting me again.
No! No! not night-mares,
these are not those,
mishaps occurring silently,
in the night and
those who doesn’t count.

These are the living ones,
nasty and noisy,
crystal clear in sunshine,
seems to be revengeful,
and must be counted.

But the irony is,
these visible ghosts,
are creation of the self,
planned and fail-safe.
But have become now,
a un-gulp-able bone,
in my throat and
left me gullible.