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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2235702-Living-Postmortem
Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2235702
At home in the dirt.
I'm just a girl in a graveyard
Laying atop the tombs
Showing a row of teeth for the first time all winter
As the ringing silence finally fades to a softness
A comforting quiet
That isn't quite so suffocating
I can see myself scattered across the stones
And know one thing to be true
I am the only player in my game
But I have never been less alone
As I am here
Here where the sunlight casts a golden hand
Grabbing at the snow-soaked fabric upon my heels
And it's that different quietness
The one no longer screaming solitude
But filling all corners of the mind
Rounding them out
Softening
And seeking to remind that loneliness can be vanquished
It's that quietness that twists at my thoughts
For I'm seeking to know why I feel more at home amongst the dead
Than the living
But afraid I may fear the answer
It is here that I must be held accountable
But will not be judged
Here where all is forgiven
I am no gentle daughter of decency
And no mercy shall be taken on my soul
But as sunshine fades and shadows fall
Ashes to ashes we all heed the call
Perhaps I lie prematurely
Perhaps too late
And perhaps not at all.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2235702-Living-Postmortem