Categories > Original > Poetry0 Reviews
Buried beneath the tallest tree, you cry.
Slipping deeper to where the ghosts loom,
Draw back, slip away and count to ten,
The solitude in this darkness is your only friend,
And the last song is screamed out by scorched lungs,
We fall to crawl and scrawl out what we should’ve sung,
Buried beneath the tallest tree, you cry,
Hand in hand with the devil, I die.