Every second, it happened.

The poor ghost was in a loop.

He was never so maddened.

As alive, he was named Troup.

When Troup died, he was cursed.

Troup had to relive the worse.

It would never be reversed.

Repetition was the curse.

He felt the stab in the back.

His murder was repeated.

Death never cut Troup, some slack.

Madness was left untreated.

The trapped ghost would not move on.

Chance for the next life was gone.