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l-e-n-aPoems
I suppose the happy are dead The broken are unliving I rest in graveyards, under clouds Watching the world spin Twist fingers through the waving grass That grows around the graves Ivy weaving over crumbling stones Letters faded and worn now But still a stone, standing Holding up the ceiling of grief For the body locked beneath They're happy places, graveyards Resting grounds for noticed souls Cherished in life and loved in death
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Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 5:26 AM UTC
rest // the dead are loved
I suppose the happy are dead The broken are unliving I rest in graveyards, under clouds Watching the world spin Twist fingers through the waving grass That grows around the graves Ivy weaving over crumbling stones Letters faded and worn now But still a stone, standing Holding up the ceiling of grief For the body locked beneath They're happy places, graveyards Resting grounds for noticed souls Cherished in life and loved in death
l-e-n-a
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l-e-n-a
15/F/uck dullness
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 5:26 AM UTC
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