I thought we buried this alive but my fingers are raw and ***** from digging just to find an empty casket; it died long before we could ever bury it, and no amount of dirt or digging or wood and nails could ever bring it to life again
it died a unceremonious death, no one aware enough to mourn it because they didn’t know it was dead
we sat with the corpse because that was how it lived; silent and still but with a unfamiliar stench that everyone around can smell, but never know
if no one is mourning it, did it ever die?
wrote this on my notes app in like late 2023, posted it on medium then forgot about it till now. I would usually edit and change something like this before posting it here, but I think it's flaws and errors can show the emotional state i was in while writing more transparently than a perfectly edited and grammatically correct poem