Disclaimer: The poem’s mine. No one else’s. So don’t steal it.

Author’s Note: Another weird poem from me. I’ve seriously got to stop writing poems at school ;_; I wrote this in Chemistry today, if you want to know. Constructive criticism would be much appreciated.

Silent whispers of rushes and bodies

the graves of fireflies

and long buried tombs

stifling the silence with their own echoes

Crickets jumping in the darkness –

what is darkness?

Is there really darkness?

Is there really such a thing?

Or is it a mere illusion that we’re having?

That we’re to blame for because of our nearsightedness

is it a slave to our desire?

Marked graves lay in neat and haphazard rows

Sometimes overlapping one another

The quiet cry of souls weeping

and the only thing that fills the silence now is

silent whispers of rushes and bodies.