I walked through the graveyard with my mum and my sister, numb, and sullen. I didn't know what death was, but as an empath, the overall mood affected me, and thus, I was sad. I looked at the open wooden box at my uncle with his eyes closed. He was still alive, he was just sleeping. Right? I shrugged, looking around. There were big stones littering the ground with engravings and words carved into them. "Milicent Aurelis, 1947-2018. Rest in peace our dear Milicent, and may Heaven treat you kindly." One read. What was Heaven? Was it nice? Where was it? I did not get answers. Maybe I didn't want them. They were like the low-hanging fruit that I couldn't be bothered to grab just by asking aloud, and whose fault was that but my own?
YOU ARE READING
Where All Dawn Breaks - A Poetry Book
PoezjaThis is a collection of poetry, both mine and not. If it was written by somebody else, credit will be given as possible.
