I run fingers down stone
Carved with your name
And the tears won’t come

I don’t think I’ve any left
So many days of feeling everything
And now
I feel nothing
What one’s worse is a mystery
They’re both hell

There’s moss growing in the lettering
Tucked into the curve of the numbers
That explain when you lived
And when you died

And I wish your name
Didn’t echo like poetry in my head
But it does
And I’m going mad from hearing it

One thought on “Mad

  1. humanity777 October 16, 2016 / 4:24 PM

    I know this…cheers

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