deepundergroundpoetry.com

At The Grave Yard
Don't be afraid,
it's just tombs.
Tombs,
used as underground
rooms
for the dead.
Don't be afraid,
it's all just graves.
Graves,
for those departed
from the lives
they led.
Don't be scared,
They are just bodies.
Rotting bodies,
of those related
living in past
memories.
Don't be scared,
For they were once
as alive,
as you and I.
Though
they long to breath,
it's not a movie,
they can't kill,
so be still.
Don't be sad,
for the sleep,
pleasantly,
permanently,
under a sky fill with stars.
Listen,
with an open mind,
you can still hear,
a beat in unison,
maybe they are just one heart.
Don't be weirded-out,
You are my shrink,
my psychiatrist.
You asked me,
to take you where
where I find my peace and calm.
That's what I did.
This is my place,
this is my spot,
this is me being free,
I feel at home,
here, in this desolate
graveyard.[/center]
(an actual picture of a graveyard I went to last month)
it's just tombs.
Tombs,
used as underground
rooms
for the dead.
Don't be afraid,
it's all just graves.
Graves,
for those departed
from the lives
they led.
Don't be scared,
They are just bodies.
Rotting bodies,
of those related
living in past
memories.
Don't be scared,
For they were once
as alive,
as you and I.
Though
they long to breath,
it's not a movie,
they can't kill,
so be still.
Don't be sad,
for the sleep,
pleasantly,
permanently,
under a sky fill with stars.
Listen,
with an open mind,
you can still hear,
a beat in unison,
maybe they are just one heart.
Don't be weirded-out,
You are my shrink,
my psychiatrist.
You asked me,
to take you where
where I find my peace and calm.
That's what I did.
This is my place,
this is my spot,
this is me being free,
I feel at home,
here, in this desolate
graveyard.[/center]
(an actual picture of a graveyard I went to last month)
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