Trapped
By: Stephanie MacDonald
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Buried alive in an antique cemetery
My soul is no longer a soul, but a haunted spirit.
My brain inhabited, like raw meat on a summer day.
Trying to run, but I'm unable to move.
I'm trapped in this place, I'm forced to call home.
Trying to see, but only blackness before me.
I'm blinded by this pain.
Buried alone in an antique cemetery.
My skin no longer soft, but dry and brittle, like aged wood chips.
Where is my savior and where is my God?
Can't count on them anymore, I have too many times already.
Trying to call your name, but death has no sound.
Coming to sweep you away when you least expect.
I'm filled with this silent disease, that has no cure.
Buried alone and buried alive,
There is no way I will ever survive.
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