Visions Of Welcoming Graves

Loneliness is a disease
That has attached itself to me,
I can’t shake it,
My face is pale gray
Like a corpse or a mourner,
I just watch the flowers of my dreams
Begin to fade
Beneath the sweltering sun
Of disappointing reality
And know that I’m undone.

Drugs could never lessens this pain,
Musical therapy fails to strike
A positive chord with me.
Every thought is shallow and empty,
I can’t save a smile I had yesterday,
I feel betrayed by memories,
They smirk at me.
I now cherish visions of welcoming graves.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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