Why am I drawn to such dark lines and paths?
Where cold damp soaks into feet quite bare.
I’ll catch my death wallowing between these dead leaves,
As I look upon these smooth faces of stone.
But my hands are tied about with thoughts,
They torment my already trouble soul.
And so I find myself here,
Weeping upon carved marble and granite.
Now and then a fit of fancy captures within both eyes,
And I dance round this sanctimonious space.
Willing the ground to crumble between each step,
Leave me be oh lonely souls.
Drag me not beneath this grass,
To your purgatory’s inner sanctum.
A veil is placed between you and me,
And with each passing moment I feel it fray.
If only I could turn these feet and run,
Back to lands of the living,.
But it so not so I must dance,
Balanced between heaven and a rising hell.