Mar. 11th, 2017

kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
The absence of people asks for a denial that they were ever real. The absence of the self acts the same.


They’re Gone

It’s easier to think they’re gone
memory conveniently left behind
a tombstone in the grass of thoughts
sculptured lawn is all that’s left

past ecstasy, joy’s last gasp
in a memory that asks for more
screams that echo in the void
as silence takes what’s been lost

on the edge of life, near no more
death seems closer than spark of self
vitality’s assumed to be the norm
so says those closer to existence’s coil

still alive, yet expired in mind
has doom taken one that shined?
imaginations would say this is so
waking dreams are nightmare’s grist

only in darkness, far from light
the shadows keep their stolen prize
child of brightness in hell’s grip
brimstone provides the only light

It’s easier to think I’m gone
this is your option before I pass
the new tombstone on lawn’s expanse
the pain will lessen with false recall.

© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170311.

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