Single file lines of people
they're all dressed in black
I know that none of them give a f*ck
they're just being polite
making an appearance
up there, living, breathing
I was alone
no one saw me for who I was
they didn't understand, I never really found home
you stand there with a frown
as if you really cared
there's nothing to thaw your icey core
and nothing inside you can form tears
you murdered me
all of them caused me pain
break mea little more
yell a little louder
my heart burst
and I left blood on your white floor
six feet under
and i'm the happiest i've ever been
down here I am not alone
and hey do understand
each slab of gray
marks an untold story
those stories are whispered in my ears
they are like me...
dead.
because of a few missing words
I love you
I might be up there
if someone had spoken that phrase
It should make you feel guilty
but your heart's are as dark as your clothes
so go on
make your appearance
if it makes you feel better
but i'm better off here
six feet under
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting. Never read anything from the viewpoint of being dead. Hell, I actually like it.