Thousands of stones scattered.
All in lines, in an alphabetical pattern.
Some have pictures and words written in the stone.
Others have nothing besides a place marker where there’s bones.
Our lives are judged when we are put to rest.
“Beloved mother, daughter, sister,” Is what was decided was best.
For those who have no family, their stones are mostly blank.
Besides the spot that says their name.
All your life, you never stop to think,
What is going on that headstone if you sink.
You can go your whole life.
Never thinking about the day you die.
Other times that's all you can think of.
When am I going to God above?
Art in the ground and above our heads.
Some people all they feel is dread.
But not me.
I look at the blade and think what it’s gonna be.
Live my life or become art in the ground?
It’s up to me right now.
Leave and never look back.
Or keep going through the attacks.
Keep my head up and a cage around my heart.
Keep going until I can’t stop.
They won’t stop until i'm down.
They won’t stop until I’m just art in the ground.
YOU ARE READING
In The Dark
PuisiPeople always say, 'There's no reason to be depressed.' or 'what do you have to be depressed about.' alot of the times its, 'you seem fine to me.' yes, I do seem fine, but I'm breaking underneath the surface. They don't see behind the mask we all ho...
