Grave Digger
I live in a place,
Inhuman and grey,
Not for weak eyes,
For this place is a grave.
The willows sway gently,
Their song is unheard,
Only the dead hear it now,
But it's not sweet like the birds'
People stand,
Silent as stone,
They scream on the inside,
No emotion do they show.
The paths are marked with footprints,
The paint has worn away,
So many people grieving,
About the dead that lay.
The bark grinds on trees,
As though talking to each other,
They know many secrets,
Confiding in each other.
The monuments stand tall,
The echo of voices,
The whispering of spirits,
The spirits choices.
This is a place of memories,
And tears still stain the grounds,
Many are laid to rest,
But they still make it around.