Poetry

The Grave Beyond The Tracks

oh, you trepid wanderer, leaves will guide your path, below your feet, they’ll squander to clothe the aftermath. may weary bones be broken, in lieu of all the stones; the demons now awoken, and ivy overgrown. each footstep on your travels, is marked in anxious haste, the clearest hopes of lavish, released with final grace. the racing beats weigh heavy, like chains upon the tracks; and with a reverent howling, you’ll rest in peace – at last.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s