deepundergroundpoetry.com
Mourn
Down so deep. Floor above your head.
Eternal sleep. Buried and dead.
There's a wall, in your face.
You call, but there's no space.
They don't hear, they ignore.
Your voice can't tear through the floor.
They cry for you, but you still move.
What is true, how to disprove.
You scrape at the sides, so close to your head.
You are stuck inside this house of the dead.
Eternal sleep. Buried and dead.
There's a wall, in your face.
You call, but there's no space.
They don't hear, they ignore.
Your voice can't tear through the floor.
They cry for you, but you still move.
What is true, how to disprove.
You scrape at the sides, so close to your head.
You are stuck inside this house of the dead.
Published 7th Jun 2014
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