I'm only make-believe my dear,
and have been ever since I died.
I'm following my fetch-deer
but everyday I've cried...
if not with tears, in blood,
if not from fears, a flood
of memories overwhelming,
profane screaming condescending!
Whenever the dead arise from within
walking cemeteries become gardens.
Ice within an expired heart hardens
as they consume the dead with a grin.
I may be somewhat pale and thin.
I'm Nordic and protect my skin
from sunlight on bright afternoons.
I often like to watch cartoons
instead of going outside.
Introverts can see inside
the places where we like to hide,
the places where the dead reside.
19 November 2017 (Corrected Audio)
2 days ago