A long twisted poem about visiting someone at their funeral then at the cemetery. |
-Listening Through The Cemetery Trees- by Keaton Foster Above her grave Shadows invade Darkness lingers The sun hangs high Furiously burning bright All other darkness Is easily out of sight The God of us all Looks down upon her In judgment he signs He won’t forget What she willingly did Listening through The cemetery trees I can hear her voice Her terrifying choice She once said to me Son this is how it must be Forever I must go You must be alone Survive if you can Do whatever it takes Just as I Then with ease Mired in her callous beliefs She turned a walked away Leaving me quite empty Without a chance I fought to be more Then the nothing That she condemned me to The boy of my youth Was taken away A tortured man I became In shame Heavy did my head hang But I managed to survive I managed to thrive Many years later I would see her face Frozen in an eternal state She looked nothing As I had imagined She looked worn Abused and misused She looked like she Had been through hell I was told that she Found death in a bottle It numbed her pain And erased her mistakes It allowed her to forget As I remembered all too well It was a fitting end to the Ridiculous way in which she lived One of the first things that I said with regard to her end Judgment meant They found her festering In a stew of herself A miracle was lent To the man that crafted Her death face Because beneath her Worn, abused, misused face Was something far more freighting A hellish amalgamation of her life And time honored decomposition Listening through The cemetery trees I can hear her voice Regretting her choices Pleading for another way Just as I once did I’ve come to say goodbye I won’t return Because unlike her In this place I don’t belong… Listening Through The Cemetery Trees Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2013 |