During the day a smile will get me by
Let me hide the darkness I hold inside
I'll pretend that I am meant to be with the living
When the sun is up I'll live the double life a while longer
But with the living is now where I belong

In the cemetery
6 feet below is where my name is marked
In there cemetery
Where I don't have to explain the feeling on the inside
Where I'll never have to hide the darkness inside of me
I'll smile in the sunlight for a little longer
Try to make it the real me
But the cemetery is where I truly belong
6 feet under where I don't have to explain the darkness inside
In the cemetery
Where the only judgment around me is my own
That's where I belong

Beneath shade from tall poplars stand
markers: rows staggered hand-in-hand.

Rock slabs like soldiers on review
symbolic nameplates capture dew.

Planted deep, mounted in red-clay;
lean to and fro like mimes at play.

Weathered by icy winter frost
and torrid heat near sacred ghost,

echoes resound of beginnings
while dust sifts across the endings.

An angel is supposed to guard,
here she sits while her beloved forever sleeps.
A concrete face, a whispered lullaby,
while loved ones grieving weep.

The tombstone stuffed animal,
just another soulless face.
A way in which to remember you,
by someone elses grace.

But your memory meant so much more to me,
than an ornament cast in stone.
The featured wings can't calm a visit,
when I'm standing here alone.

this autumn
do not step on the dead leaves
to hear the satisfying crunch under your feet
for you have to respect
the things that mother nature could not save.

this autumn
do not open the windows
to catch the cold autumn breeze
the falling leaves might be blown in
and they will die and turn brown
right in front of you.

this autumn
darling, shut the door and hide in your sanctuary
everything is dying
you should not witness the destruction
and find any beauty in it.

this autumn
do not go to the cemetery
for the silence that you love.
for the next season
you might be under the snow.