Danced On My Grave

April 6, 2011
I place my hands above me.
Can’t get out
I push on the walls next to me.
Can’t get out.
I push on the floor.
Can’t get out

Its pitch black.
I I’m closed in this little space.
I don’t get it, where am I?
I woke up here.
I was just walking down the street.
There was a short pain and then this.
Was I kidnapped?
Was I hurt?
Did somebody want to kill me?

Above me, people cry.
They put flowers where I lay.
My friends and family gather their, grieving over a lost son.
But I’m not dead. Not yet.
But not he.
But he doesn’t grieve.
He doesn’t sob
He doesn’t cry.
Not even a frown.
He stays in the corner.
He hides his smile
He did this to me.
He killed me.
Then danced on my grave.

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