Why She Dug Up A Grave

Why she dug up a grave

Poison like letters in one hand, wiping off her defeat from the other,

With every hiccup she tries to suffocate her shrieking a little further,

Her heart aches like someone’s digging it with broken pieces of glass,

Trying to steal whatever is left of her, and bury her six feet under the grass,

Her mother doesn’t know what she does when she locks up her room,

Mommy thinks she’s brewing spells of success to fly away on her broom,

But all she does is pick on the lints on her bedsheet, staring at the ceiling,

Feeling the sting of memories as they roll down her cheeks, taking with them everything but one feeling,

That she wants to keep with herself so that she can put on a play,

A play she’s becoming good at now, she’ll trick all the characters in saying what she wants them to say,

But she sobs at night, holding on to a pillow like it’s her only best friend,

Trying to soak all that she has to say in stanzas that don’t seem to end,

Eyes that are tired, her skin is telling stories only she knows the beginning of,

Stories where she flew too high to be in love with a star shining above,

And sleep doesn’t come to her anymore, dreams aren’t a luxury she can afford,

Walking with her eyes closed thinking it’s a daydream she going toward,

Every conversation leads to more chaos, she should’ve known the hill’s way too steep,

In her days she’s a merry tune, at night her sobs try to sing her to sleep,

Yet they fail, to make her fall to her knees; to succumb to her pain,

But she’s way to good at faking the truth for herself; she’ll do it again and again,

Avoiding conflict just so she can hear herself laugh, to find hope in her eyes so deep,

And if you see her and she’ll laugh like nothings wrong; know that she’s become too good at the secrets she keeps.

-afreen