Moss on the Grave

[Heretic]

Forgotten, my little one
There is no one
Alone to scrape the moss on the graves
Mouths open and the chanting saves
Once thy promise left me gasping
Thy moonlight I went grasping
Now so cold as frost untold
This winter's tomb is growing old
To wicked hearts that observe the dead
'Neath the shadow of the roots, thy bed...
Child's hands reach while ghosts crave
The moss to be scraped from the graves.

This leaves me sick
Eyeless I watch thee
A godless brutality for the wicked
I feel the favor of wolves
Grief is an old frieind
These grinning corpse-trees whisper secrets
I hide here among their fingers
Rebuke is my bride
Eyeless I watch thee
Scrape the moss from the graves...

[radar]

wow. man, your stuff has soooo much thought behind it. i read that like 3 times and still don't quite get it. awesome.

[In Christ, the metalhead]

same for me dude, its pretty indepth. but i like it.- what is it about?

[Heretic]

It's sort of about a friend who's leaving town, and how I'll always be watching for her. But it's hard to pull that out of the poem, I know. It's also kind of atmospheric in a way. Moss on gravestones obscures the writing, and so to scrape the moss off a grave is to in some way recover memories. Plus I just wanted to write something creepy. Thanks for the feedback!

[empyreanishardcore]

sweet...