Posted in life, original

Where Do You Bury The Dead?

A night blanketed by mist

Not like other nights that have past

Tonight is colder and quieter.

.

A hooded figure roams the empty streets

Door to door collecting what others have thrown away

Old relationships

Heartaches and heart breaks

Emotions

Lies

Tears

Even happiness that others neglected

Memories they prefer not to look back to.

.

The unwanted feelings

Things that have been erased

The hooded figure takes them all

Bury them not in cemeteries

But someplace else.

Posted in miscellaneous, original

Assassin

I loved an assassin

Who shot me dead

Straight through my heart

It pierced right through

He showed no mercy

He didn’t flinch

One bullet was all it took

Posted in loss / death, original

Hang Man

Outside he appeared to be jolly

Inside he was feeling hollow, empty

He could feel something creeping in his mind

It was dark, cruel, tempting, and unkind

He tried to ward it off, tried to fight it

But on days when he was awake and alone, he contemplated on it

Don’t think him too weak, it was a battle no one could see

It took over him so his life he took a finality

He bowed his head and there himself he hanged

The darkness he could no longer withstand 

Posted in life, loss / death, love, original

If I Were To Die Today

If my life were taken today,
I wonder what you would say?

Would you tell me you love me?
Or would you say you were just being friendly?

Would you cry and hold me until my last breath?
Will you be sad because of my death?

If I died today, is there anything you’d like to say?

Posted in original

My Time

my time has passed

it has come at last

this is the end

the road is no more

time to settle the score

no going back

judgment has come

though not yet for some

although it has for me

and so I face for the final time

wondering what will be

Posted in original

Six Feet Under

I think I’m feeling under the weather today

I don’t feel like myself in any way

Could it be the fact that I’m underground?

Or that all I could make is a muffled sound?

Could it be that this wooden bed is too tight?

Or that I don’t have pillows for the night?

Maybe because I’m not used to the smell

of formaldehyde

Or maybe because I don’t have a lamp by my side

I still can’t get over the fact that I’m dead

So I’ll keep myself busy

and play tic-tac-toe instead

Posted in favorites

Spirits of the Dead

Thy soul shall find itself alone
‘Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.

Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness- for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee; be still.

The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven
With light like hope to mortals given,
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.

Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne’er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more, like dew-drop from the grass.

The breeze, the breath of God, is still,
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token.
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!

-Edgar Allan Poe-