Walking past the tombstones,
shivering with fear.
The cemetary gates have shut,
I did not shed a tear.
Hearing the death and resurrected,
eating up the noise that lives within me.
As I drop the light,
I'm living in darkness.
Hoping that the passed will come and save me.
Sitting with the corpses,
that were once alive.
Sitting and waiting trying not to cry.
Looking at my body,
"Why am I alive?"
"What did I do to live?"
"And what did they do to die?"
I sat against a tombstone,
with an ingraved toy,
it said James aged six,
it was a little boy.
I kissed the stone,
talking to this child.
Wondering why he passed away and why he did not cry.
The silence of the dead,
eating me up inside.
My heart tearing apart,
with the hurt of the shed.
If I was like them,
I would lay and wait and hope for the living to come and leave us all to mope.
