Buried Alive

da2da5ecfc31f0469c23038ff7e9a46bWill I know the song of the dead,
The chorus of the rotting bones,
The sting of the cutting rocks,
That block my way to heaven?
Heavy and burdened, there is no time to scream, no time to panic,
Air pockets poke through, promising more,
Promising me yellow-orange light.
I cough as I breathe more dirt, I lick my lips,
Wet, mud trailing sluggishly down my throat.
My fingers are no longer-bloody stumps
That no longer bleed,
Dirt, oh dirt, packed the wound,
Now dirt is inside of me-
My lungs, my heart, but I refuse to let
It reach my brain.
The dirt trails through my bloodstream,
Clotting and building, an army of dirt
That will one day hold me down,
Until I sink to hell.

Did you know, the longer you are buried alive, the closer to Hell you become?
I am tired of demons clawing me,
Attempting to bring me down,
Promising me things, things that I need-like water and air, food and love,
But I refuse, until the earth swallows my brain.
I dig even faster now,
Desperation making me stupid, dirt making me insane.
But the more I dig, the more dirt comes-
As if someone above me,
Is determined to see me fail.
But I will never fail, never, never…

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Kas Writes

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