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.

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