Corpses lay heavy with memories and regret
Crawling with the anger of past lives
Entwined with the sadness of abandonment
Lacking the elements to be tangible
Yet carving inerasable images into the minds of those less willing to let
go
And those who are
Fly freely amongst the dead
Readying themselves for what is to come
And for what is not

Over grown grasses of
Rage and hate
Have devoured the less morbid bodies
Eliminating traces of happier lives
And the bones of those
Depressed, forgotten, sad
Everything that can bring a trace of a tear to someone’s eye
Are pushed to the surface

And so when making the mistake
Of walking into this territory
With their heart already coming increasingly close to being deafened
One would find themselves
Crying
Longing for peace
The type of peace only found six feet under the ground
Whilst rotting away and fading from everyone’s memory
Becoming an insignificant body
The sweet peace
Of death

 
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