The girl is not dead.
She is buried
In layers upon layers
Of doubt,
Responsibility,
Fear and conformity
That she is barely able to move,
Barely able to breathe,
But not dead
Or i wish she isnt.
The girl is not dead
She is only slumbering
She's covered in a blanket of
Lies, lulling her into sleep.
The reality is just a dream
Or I wish it is.
The girl is not dead.
Sometimes I hear her sing
In the quiet times
When everyone's
Dead in their beds
Sometimes she comes out
And dances
To the music she wishes
Would last forever
But as the thought comes,
It abruptly stops.
All ending in mockery
and cynicism
She goes back to the dark
Silent again.
Forgotten again.
Buried again.
But the girl is not dead.
YOU ARE READING
A Graveyard Of Words
PoetryA poetry collection ------------------- My words will just die without having been read My voice will only be swallowed by the cavern of thoughts without leaving an echo My stories will cease to exist. COMPLETED. ©bil garcia/ flightywords
