Time spent long past the living
No one worships a heart so rotten
No one can be that forgiving
My palace is algae-covered stone
I can feel the absence of life
As the moss grows over my bone
The absence of love, the still sunken knife
What happened to the dances in those halls?
Those nights where music was in the stars
What happened after I left those walls?
What happened to you in this world of ours?
Angry and bitter the body matches the heart
I’m just as eroded as I was when I was clean
But my darling I knew from the start
That there was no saving me
Isn’t this serene?
The fountain of cupid without his bow
Stands at the center of the scene
A crime committed too long ago
Life has reclaimed what I built
An empire covered in grass
Finally putting to rest my guilt
Finally the era has passed
No one can be that forgiving
My palace is algae-covered stone
I can feel the absence of life
As the moss grows over my bone
The absence of love, the still sunken knife
What happened to the dances in those halls?
Those nights where music was in the stars
What happened after I left those walls?
What happened to you in this world of ours?
Angry and bitter the body matches the heart
I’m just as eroded as I was when I was clean
But my darling I knew from the start
That there was no saving me
Isn’t this serene?
The fountain of cupid without his bow
Stands at the center of the scene
A crime committed too long ago
Life has reclaimed what I built
An empire covered in grass
Finally putting to rest my guilt
Finally the era has passed
Anne Gregg is a 17-year-old writer and poet from Northwest Indiana. Currently, she is her high school creative writing club’s 3-time editor-in-chief. She loves writing, but, as an increasingly nihilistic person, she has decided to put her work out in the world sooner rather than later.
This is fantastic. I love it and oh, how I can relate to thinking about death like this.
ReplyDeleteWhat a great piece. I am so proud of you.
ReplyDeleteUncle Rich