Dead

-Dead-
by
Keaton Foster



There are many
Each stone
Marks every home
An eternity
For eternity’s sake
A prison unkempt
There are no guards
No burdensome locks
There is only nothing
An endless realm
Of suffocating darkness
I know none
Not a damn one
Yet each day
And every night
I stand right here
Looking quite queer
Appearing very weird
A man out of place
Living his life waiting
Those in mourning
Pass me by
Some stop
Some throw me a glance
Some ask me why
Never do I reply
I just keep watching
Waiting via my own
Terrible circumstances
They are quick to move on
As many of them leave me be
They often whisper
I’ll say a prayer for you
I appreciate the idea
But unlike them I am aware
There is no prayer
That could ever save me
I am doomed
And I should be
I will pay with my life
Both while I’m alive
And when I’m dead
There are some things
That can never be right
That can never be
Removed from the soul
There is a spot for me
My most final adobe
It sits beneath my feet
There is a blank stone
Marking where I’ll go
Letting no one know
I’ll never be visited
Nor do I want to be
In death as in life
I’ll see all of this
And all of them
Through clear vision
In eternal darkness…


Dead
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2013