The Graveyard

There, a land,

Filled with tombstones,

No human dares to be alone,

Where there is no sound,

A place,

An undertaker's playground,

A place,

Where bodies will rot,

In this six by three lot,

A place to rest in peace,

A place to cry, at least,

A place where Death dumps its victims,

Souls flying in a blunder,

Floating and torn asunder,

Being shot by lightnings,

With a banging thunder,

The scene of the dead,

Varies by their past lifestyles,

In this place,

Where coffins piles and piles,

The spirits left alone,

To mingle with one another,

Only they can understand,

Each and everyone's blathers,

Their triumphs and losses,

Their lives and houses,

Their works and bosses,

Their family which they sorely miss,

Sobbing uncontrollably,

Wanting to see them badly,

In this Graveyard,

The place,

That tells a million stories,

The tales branching like trees,

Interesting to those who are nearby,

Sharing past lives,

So they won't be bored,

While waiting for The End,

This is the scene,

A community of The Dead,

Some happy, some sad,

Some sane, some mad,

Some jokers haunting the living,

To have a jest,

To have an eternal rest,

This is my Gift,

As I can see,

The Dead Souls,

In The Graveyard.