She has come to relaxation within the nook of my room.
With mud masking her physique like a white movie, it catches my eye.
A ghost in the dead of night.
At the hours of darkness, I’ll hear her moan out;
A plea to really feel the frenzy
Of fingers upon her keys.
The strings have lengthy rusted,
And the keys would stick if I dreamt of taking part in once more.
A thick moist warmth within the air has decayed her good physique.
She rots within the nook of my room.
A valley stretches by her facet, spreading everyday,
Whereas tiny mud spiders create properties in her gaping wounds.
Jaundice has coated itself over her as soon as ivory bones,
And a whisper of dying has wrapped himself round her,
Like a sheet that I by no means coated her in.
Disgrace weighs heavy on my again.
A burlap sack stuffed with all of her broken-down elements,
Scars the pores and skin on my shoulder.
Now, the halls are silent,
And there’s not one dream of affection
To whisper into the night time.
Future and previous collide: ‘65’
Inexperienced Bandana Challenge: College students supporting college students
Kansas State College Gardens put together for springtime occasions