The Graveyard
I walk, with cat-like steps, past the cold stone
tiptoeing quietly as the leaves fall
hiding in the shadows of trees, alone
as hidden silent voices seem to call
My own foot steps echoing in my brain
the silence is pressing against my ears
whispers, howling and screming in pain
forgotton memories and fallen tears
Then, the voices fade, graves are all I see
their cold and pale blanck faces seem to stare
a soft crackling noise of leaves behind me
I jump, and whip around but nothing’s there
I guess it was my imagination
nothing more then a hallucination