Do you think that if I planted seeds in the graveyard
Could I pull you up kicking and screaming the whole way
Grasping at loose stones tearing at the dirt
Insisting you’re gone that you never want to see yourself again
Would the cold air be enough to convince you you’re alive
If the oxygen in your lungs burn as they expand is that enough
What if I pull your hand as you near the surface
Would you settle long enough for me to pull you out
I know you’ll be a mess and I promise I’ll bring a change of clothes
You’ll shiver and cry but that’s ok because you’re still human
You’re not dead yet so let me pull you back out
Quiet yourself and let it take you
~W.C.