Grave Endeavors

Violin Hearts
In a grave of forgotten dirge
Tombstones unmarked
As the Ravens sing songs
Of cold hearted blues

Quietness, Not a sound
The fog rolls, Stagnant
Stuck above the hallow grounds
History of an eventual demise
Ghosts expired of their crimes
Of living with reckless abandonment

A song is born
As dark as the souls that infect it
Rejoicing each disease
With light induced tragedy

And we mourn on
Each suicide note more tragic
As the time goes on
Tears fall ever gracefully
In the kindred awakening
Of graves opened for recognition

Oh, Why are the innovators
Only noticed when they meet
Their enchanting doom?

Uneventfully vague
In the abortion of society
May the living rest in peace

Don’t correct art
When art lays restless deep inside the reaper’s wounds



Written By,
James Darwin Smith II