6 feet under
To the ground
To the ground
To the ground we go
A mere game of choice were we thrown into
where time is an irrelevant paradox
And nothing really matters
And everything will rot
right down to the flowers
In the ground
In the ground
Into the ground we go
Where we lay to rest our last shred of hope
👁 5💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
Comments are closed for this poem.