Six feet of dirt holding me down,
trapped in a small wooden box in the ground.
No escape from the cold, dark coffin of my mind.
Looking for a way out, freedom from my thoughts,
no light to see, no room to move.
Each day I wake up,
if feels like I've been buried alive.
My body is decomposing, I'm falling apart,
nothing to hold me together, I'm a mess.
Worms of anger crawling through my corpse,
maggots of hate slowly eathing me away.
The nails of fear holding my prison together.
Each day I wake up,
it feels like I've been buried alive.
Exveloped by darkness, no air to breathe,
all I can do is lay and wonder what happened to me,
my mind is dark, evil thoughts of death,
sadness, depression, and suicide race behind my eyes.
I'm not dead yet, how much longer, who can say.
Each day I wake up,
it feels like I've been buried alive
Will I ever escape this cage surrounding my mind,
the smell of fresh soil assulting my nose,
I eagerly await the sound of hope,
a shovel scraping stone, digging down, towards me.
Will anyone be there to lift me from my hole in the gound.
Each day I wake up,
it feels like I've been buried alive |
Submission Name: Buried Alive
