literature

Grave Digger

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KleeAStrange's avatar
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Literature Text

Shovel swining at my side,
working away on my midnight ride.
Digging up the dirt, clump by clump.
Making a whole for some dead chump.

The moon's waxing brightly, the clouds are a'glow.
Shadows are dancing merrily in a macbre spook show.
I see a ghoul scuttle out of the corner of my eye.
Lucky for me, I'm not the one to die.

Lowering it steadily, the corpse into the hole.
Soon to be food for the worm and the mole.
The living are in tears, the dead are in delight.
Another has joined their ranks this night.

Packing the dirt firmly, striking the ground.
Carving a headstone so that he may be found.
Shovel over my shoulder, the job at my back.
I hope the goblins dont want a midnight snack.

Sometimes I question the fear in their eyes I see...
For when you die, you come to me.
A poem with something of a more upbeat, all be it a bot more disturbing. view on death.
© 2008 - 2024 KleeAStrange
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