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When reality finally hits you it hurts
When the truth comes into focus it’s brutally painful.
Hope isn't always enough
It’s not always a happy ending.
What happens when faith is not enough?

I get hot flashes
My depression splashes
My soul is cold like stone,
the fear of being alone.

So now I lay me down to sleep
I pray you lord my soul to keep
Don’t let me die before I wake
I pray you lord my soul do not take.

I barely have a past
And may have no future
       Empty pages of a book
       A story left unwritten
       A life left unlived
       A hope left in the dust.
Please don't take me yet
Your mercy you won't regret
I am down on my knees
Begging you please
Don’t take me away.

At night I dream a misty graveyard
A tombstone the name I cannot see
A flashlight in the darkness
A figure so lifeless I cannot breathe.
Then I awake not as fearless as I may seem.

If this is my future
And if it comes to pass
And this breath be my last
Then this thought to you I cast.

What if faith is not enough?
Then life would be rather tough
With nothing to believe in
And nothing to justify
Nothing to keep you sane
Nothing to grasp when you fall
You will have nothing,
nothing at all.

Sometimes that is how I am
Falling in the darkness
With nothing to take hold
This feeling leaves me cold
hearted, soulless, empty.
All I feel is the pain of being unreal
No one knows how this life feels,
when you are so lifeless.

So now I lay me down to cry
I pray you lord you can't let me die.
Now I lay me down to sleep
Close my eyes without a peep
Never to be opened again.

Your body goes warm then cold like rain
Slowly your body numbs,
to your fingers and your thumbs.
As your body stops working, you feel the cold mist of death
And peacefully while you’re sleeping you take your final breath.
© 2016 Christine Mulvihill
Read more at http://www.******
Knit Personality Sep 2016
Here, in cramped lots
Laid side by side,
Postage stamp plots,
The dead reside.

Bury my bones
Where I can prove
The well-spaced stones
Leave room to move.

Hannah Christina Aug 2018
Too much, too fast.
Breathless at a stoplight.
Always with the rushing, barely feeling, barely knowing where I am.

Now there's nothing.

It's a break, slow and stale.
What do I do?
There are four or five things maybe but none feel right and I can't bring myself to move.
I try one thing,
then another.
No drive,
Not even my eyes can focus on anything.
Skipping, blinking, nothing.

Give me back the whirlwind, or give me gravelike nothing.
Nothing is right.
I need power to feel and peace to fight or I am already dead.
I'm trusting You.
Thanks so much for reading, it means a lot.

Honestly, I'm not feeling much better for the moment.  Things were getting a bit slow this afternoon and the Gravelike paragraph applied for like two hours, but I pulled myself out of it and I'm okay now.  Let's see how long the feeling of well being lasts this time...
Daniel Feb 2019
In a graveyard, a little being
slept on the bench
while people passing by
what it was doing there
but little did they know,
the being came to say
its bye-bye.

When I feel suicidal, I always visit the graveyard and end up crying because deep down I know that I am loved and my grave would be filled with flowers. However, I only know it and can´t really feel it.
It´s like feeling lonely when you know you´re not and it´s killing me.
adi Apr 2019
They say be scared of funerals
Because the wooden box traps beasts.
I say what is one funeral compared to the whole
Graveyard in my heart in which I so carefully lowered my memories,
Packed them like sardines, their skeletons grinding bones to dust,
Crunching sounds you can only hear
If you get close enough to smell the decay.
Skaidrum Jun 2015
●Sunken to my basalisk heart
○the drums of nebula bursting
•Saturn sliding down my shoulder•
°-Lupus circling the lunar fire-°
◇A flask of ivory,◇
¤in the diamond flesh.¤
•This mirror glinting•,
○Steel jaws meet my neck.
~Casting amethyst over
my hair.~
| Reflections scratching at the mist. |
"You look lovely covered in

A luminous face, pale and lean.
Spirited as foxes, a shadowman in
gunpowder chain.
"I think you mean sleeves of

In memory of Jack Addison.
Your grave looks lovely in stale moonlight.
I'm sorry.

© Copywrite
Daisy Vallely Dec 2016
I roam from here to there
Until i’m everywhere
And everything
Dancing in the graveyard of my past,
cracking the bones of our memories
Beneath my nimble feet.

I dance until my soul is dust in the wind
And travels across bodies of blues,
And greens,
As purple women swim ****
Before my eyes.

Their energy morphs into beams of light,
Until all that’s left is a fantastical flame
That allows me to feel the beauty
Of places,
Purple faces,
Blue auras,
Green eyes,
Red flames
That burn beneath me
As I descend into the evening,
Falling to my knees and praying for beautiful Death…
We are familiar friends.

Boney fingers grasp the curves of my waist.
The silence is our music;
The Reaper and I waltz for centuries in one moment,
as I watch history unfold
before my purest lense of perception;
A kaleidoscope of fear and love,
Like two opposing warriors holding hands
And sharing secrets.

I wake up from a dream in a cold sweat,
Spat out by the portal of sleep.
I celebrate nirvana,
And thank Death, as I swim in it's dark nebulous.
I await the universe to kiss my eyes
And release me from this endless wander
in this human form.
Morgan Mercury Jul 2013
I've been on the run for 500 years.
I carved a map on my back
of all the places I've been.
It's made up of all the old stars from my eyes
that no longer have meaning to me.

What a shame you couldn't have come with me.

The trees stand taller than the mountains,
growing up into the skies to touch the clouds.
The lady in the lake that pushed and pulled the boats
was a lovely savage.
These lands had no end.

I meet a man that lived on the clouds.
He told me the story of how he invented the stars
and how he cried the rain.
I never did run from the rain again.

I listened to the wind's whisper,
so low only for my ears to hear.
They told me to paint flowers for you.

So I took myself and found your stone.
Quiet, cold, and ever so selfishly was this sight to see for me.

I'm sorry your last breath was wasted on my name.
I have lost you to greed.
I wanted to travel forever with you,
but your state of body did not agree.
I took you from your saver and your bed,
and now I walk a thousand miles on my own.

I look for you every time the sun
falls down,
but knowing I'm lost in the moon's glow.

I would give all for you
to be here with me.
Winning isn't all that fun in
the end,
but now the game is over
and I stand lone a victor.

I painted you a garden of the most beautiful roses.
It's such a shame you'll never be able to see them.
Merlin BBC
Spenser Bennett Feb 2016
All that you are not
All those scars you've got
Will lead you to the end
Where I've been watching the world sleep again

Breathe it in
Forget our sin
Forget our spoken names
We journey to that sacred place

I've always been lost
A silhouette of hopeless indifference
I've always been lost
A burning darkness in the distance

You are a silver dream of mine
My only reason that seems to bind
Your golden grace bestowed on me
Leads me to a sudden peace

Awash in starry ocean waves
We've chosen our graves
Death is awaiting a single thread
A pale golden hair from atop your head

Breathe it in
Forget our sin
Forget our spoken names
We journey to that sacred place

I've always been lost
A silhouette of hopeless indifference
I've always been lost
A burning darkness in the distance

I've always been lost
A silhouette of hopeless indifference
I've always been lost
A burning darkness in the distance
Vierra Aug 2016
Let my body be brought to the wraiths of itself.
Let my body die slow by each breath after a million tiny burns.

Yet why do I hear birds singin in the heavens? Their gentle chirps and squeaks will bring the heavens to display and it is always at midnight when they do this. Always a constant song of the day's romance and hunt and sources of water.

Let the rain fall on our bright yellow raincoats.
Let it the graves be dug and covered.
Let the husbands and wives and children be placed to bed.

We will work through the night with no breaks.
This is life and I live it very well.
Karina Sep 2019
The sky is
A graveyard of stars

And I remark
Something so tragically beautiful

Just like fireworks of art
From here to the nearest star

And I wish
I could lay awake
In the night

With you
And our lingering hearts

And tell you all about a tragedy
Called life
K Wolff Aug 2018
Never forgotten,
Always in our hearts;
Here it has been written,
For those yet to depart.

Kind words starve sorrow ,
Fills lives left hollow;
Here to annul fears,
And dry the fresh tears.

Stone crumbles, and falls,
Chipped away by wind and rain;
Acceptance befalls,
Where there was once so much pain;

There are no more flowers,
The past is left behind;
Time and death devours,
Even the strongest bonds unwind.
I wrote this a few days after reading epitaphs at a couple of graveyards. It's an inexplicable mix of emotions i feel when I'm at those places. It's such a somber place, yet there is still some hope and happiness. It's hard to see from an outside perspective.
Saint Audrey Dec 2018
hollow summer tomb, could be worse
Waiting in your dark, this single world
Keeps wasting away, I keep taking notes
on truth that I find, in stories you tell

Everything I fear, I see in you
A poor disguise of choice, over wicked truth
You're here for a while, I hope for the worst
For all the other times, you still get through

Cryptic walking
In the daylight
A feeling familiar
Lost as it is
Right now
for now

Something brushes
past my shoulder
Seething restless but
We're not scared
For now

Circled round the moon, now sentient
Curses lived in full, souls born to rend
My best attempt, braced for the worst
I know we'll find our ourselves. Again

Lost inside the aftermath
Finalize our disarray
Starting down another path
Of cold decay

bought ourselves a little more
Could've done with clarity
Sunlight outside the tomb
For the time remains

But what I fear I see in you
This unnerving wicked truth
Why you're wrong I'll never say
I hope for the worst
Kai Mar 2019
Blank spaces & empty rooms

filled with nothing but salty air
it hangs heavy with palpable despair

Darkened halls & lonely tombs

where no moonlight shines on the stones
that cover forgotten bones

Old souls & new spirits

whispering like the wind through the trees
laughing like the clinking of old keys

Faithless chapels & flowerless graves

leaving the dead to the earth
and our sorrows buried in exchange for mirth

Eryri Jan 2019
You grow wild and reverential,
Your bowed white heads
Gather in prayer groups,
Dotting the well-kept lawn of the dead.

Do the residents tend to you?
Do their icy-white greenfingers
- reanimated by the winter moon -
Awaken you with a deathly touch?
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
Blind Willie Johnson strums six strings a day
He drinks with the woman who taught him to play
He spells out his secrets in the songs that he sings
And breathes his life onto six rusty strings
Blind Willie Johnson brings home the blues
Blind Willie Johnson will wail the blues to you

The brothel he grew up in is tearing down the walls
He's got so many memories of those smokey halls
His mama could be there or she could be dead
He's got no pictures, just anecdotes instead
Blind Willie Johnson said he don't know a thing
Except for the truth in the blues that he sings

Blind Willie Johnson ain't really blind at all
He's just got those gray eyes from years of alcohol
He stares into the smoke of a Friday night crowd
Who stare back at him as his stories ring out
Blind Willie Johnson doesn't cover up a thing
Listen to his pain in the blues that he sings

"Blind Willie Johnson" reads the graveyard stone
Under the blanket of the sky, Willie rests alone
Though his voice is lost underneath the ground
The world will never forget Blind Willie's sound
Blind Willie Johnson sang the way he felt
He never complained about the hand he was dealt
Mohamed Nasir Apr 2018
Here neatly side by side these rotted steels
Cancerous rust peeled off paints lay idle
Progress put halt these **** grown wheels
The sad pale ghosts of once was tireless angels

In unknown graveyard of ambulances
There's silence. But whistling birds in a tree
Not like sirens blared heard far distances
Cut through traffic like ships divide the sea

Wings on fire ferrying perilous load
Sick and dying dire need to hospital
Mother's in labour mishap on the road
Saviour of lives young, old and critical

Where mankind employs, mankind destroys
Hollowed vans left to whims like broken toys.
I came across a field of discarded ambulances. Sad to see them left in the mercy of the sun and the rain. As if their previous efforts had gone in vain.
Raylind Nov 2018
and in the graveyard of my lovers
i take care not to step loudly
that they might not wake and see,
how cold it is.
that i might not smash their corpses still

i put an arrow in my own heart
to wrench it out with might
and little will it bleed, if at all

i finally dug myself a spot
so i too can wait for footsteps overhead
warm in thick soil
only asking to be wrangled from the dirt,
here and there,
to see the cold.
stooping heartily into my hole
i whistle merrily
Terry Collett Feb 2019
It isn’t quite the same the churchyard now;
new gravestones have come along by the old,
and the old ones lie forward or backward
with the legend of names and dates fading.

We used to stand here many years ago
and kiss and embrace and declare our love;
careful none saw us in the moonlight’s shadow,
nor heard our whispered voices in the dark.

Once we walked slowly to the wooden bridge
and gazed at the moon shining up above;
held hands in secret so that none might know;
just us there silhouetted in moon’s glow.

But now you are no more and in some grave
far from where I stand in the graveyard now;
but the same moon that shone on us, shines now
just on me, but ghostly, you too, somehow.
Muse on the lost long ago love
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