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My heart was splattered blood red over drab stones gravestone inscription read: here lies the girl who lost her home Her heart and her friend
heavy hope can be hard to carry, and an obscure future, dark and scary. here without you, why'd you go? didn't tie the knot, nor tie the bow. before you left, you kissed my nose
I stand in a place that I've been once before, A garden of sadness that's watered with tears, A plot in the earth where I made an exchange: I buried my hopes and gave birth to my fears -
What I would give for you to hold me in your arms. What I would give to be with you another day. You know, it's tough now, living here without you. But I'm okay. Yeah, I'm okay.
Lisa Frank is dead, She's buried in the ground, And with her lies our childhood, Still, without a sound. With every generation, A passing interest dies, Wait a couple decades,
This burn under my skin This fire deep within Burns my soul to ashes As the fire my body catches My heart alight My soul takes flight Flees to the grave Where it will stay
The barren graves deep below Within the Earth naught does show To lay unseen but for a stone Bearing a name, long untold That tells of a life with buried meaning Of a person, in a grave leaning
You gave birth to me in the month of October while my father peeked over your shoulder. You raised me with love and compassion always and I desire to follow in your ways. On a cool morning in June of 2004
Silence was... Before you spoke. While still in my embrace Your voice ended in quiveres. Asking qurries we both didn't want to hear the answeres to. So they stayed rhetorical.
This looks like jump to me You are a cockroach
You call to me in the night, A silent black monolith of blue light, Looming in my waking thoughts and dreams, Punching buttons and tapping strings, The world I think is dull and grey,
passing by the headstones I read each name… i don’t btoher looking at the dates, just the names matter to me… Emily...Scott...Steven… the unending rows upon rows disturb me
heart sinks. ears hot. eyes wander. and hands fiddle. Don't think or else it becomes real. Hold back. "What do you have to say for yourself?" no response. your actions are real,
We are the deadStanding, surrounded by gravesOur idol destroys or saves.
Woke up in a dream under asphalt treessoaked in the sap of the sweltering citywearing these old rat rags and sneering at the concreteGreyscale mindset stitched into my sleeve
March twenty-fifth is when I missed your tender kiss.
Every month, I receive
I’m extremely unfamiliar with the ability to want.
We live a life with knowledge that death must come.The days of fall are gravenThe leaves fall upon the barren ground, the ravenCalls out in the midnight sun.
Leave me As the stinking flesh melts off the body of its unfortunate host. Rain falls upon your dripping locks. Blood pools around your sodden feet; Or is it rain? No one knows. My grave is not marked.
I once fell in love with a dreamer He exhumed me from the grave I was digging myself. Love was breathed into my hollow lungs Oh, how I hung on so dearly to those arms, pulling me out of my own grave.
What do you see? What do you hear? What do you feel, what’s coming near? How does it happen? How does it come? How does it rise, or fall from the sun? Where does it live? Where does it sleep?