Midnight In The Garden ( Archived) (2)

Midnight in the garden,
Moonlight has it's way.
On All Soul's eve, we reflect and grieve,
And remember those gone away.

My life is loss, another shoe dropped
In the apartment directly above me.
And I begin to despair, that no one will care,
When I die from the shards of this broken heart.
As, like broken glass, they work into my soul,
Cutting, shredding, ripping and tearing,
All of my hope into inane paper confetti.

Midnight in the garden,
Moonlight has it's way.
On All Soul's eve, we reflect and grieve,
And remember those gone away.

I was shaken awake by the shouting and fear,
As they took out my father on a cold gurney.
And I knew then it was just a matter of time,
Before I was alone, and suffering the same fate.
Alone on a slab with a mortician for company,
As he sewed my eyes shut, and removed my heart.

And, then, who will remember me?
They'll bury me in the garden,
Under the moonlight at midnight,
And then their faces will burn,
And they'll return, to the comfort
Of their warm hearths, to forget.