The Dark Place

The lovely bones,
they munch and groan.

We sit and wait.

While Mary mothers march.

The time has come,
to be undone.

The whistling wind,
waits for our reply.

The haunted screams,
the painful burns.

The heart ache,
the blindness.

Everything is nothing.

What is the point,
of this mediocre life?

Once we obtain everything we've strived for,
we're painfully pushed to gain more.

What if there wasn't a light,
but night?

What if you've felt complete?

Then what?

In my own words,
I'm not sure.

I'm surrounded by love,
and material possessions,
but I am certainly ready to die.