It takes thirty two seconds
To drive past a cemetery.
Thousands of lives
End here,
Their strips of film dissolved
And burned away.
Each frame
Meaningless;
Because who is there to remember them all?
How many halves of a pair of lovers are
Buried here alone?
And we drive by the whole graveyard in
Thirty two seconds,
But there are thousands of years here
Under the earth
And it feels dishonorable
That I know not one of their names.
YOU ARE READING
We Write for Fear of Silence
Poetry{My soul put into words. Writing is how I put myself back together again. Writing is how I love.} **all poems are mine** HIGHEST RANKING: #30 IN POETRY & #1 IN TEEN POETRY
