the dead, they sleep beneath the trees
in the dirt where no man sees

all the living walk above
some in hatred, others love

few have realized the truth
or successfully surpassed their youth

the folly and the imagery
of a man, a woman walking free

is such a blunder to the ghost
that wishes for what we have most

unless you've kissed the lips of death
or came upon your one last breath

you cannot fully grasp the gem
that is the gift from which life stems

the prize, a chance at being here
dipped in excitement, love, and fear

oh the dead, how they envy
and wish to join the worlds assembly

but alas, they are asleep
until the night comes, they shant creep

watching over you, and I
with phantasmagoric silent cries

if only we knew what the cost
how priceless is a life that's lost

so leave a coin when you do go
into the graveyard, walking very slow

and clear a headstone off from leaves
for the souls of the dead see life, and grieve

This poem is about: 
Our world


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