I don't need lighted maps,
I've been more lost than this.
This is sleep paralysis
And I'm being constantly buried
Under cool dirt that feels heavy on my chest
Pushing out the words, digging myself out.
I'm alone on this one at best,
Besides the gravestones strumming
Some ungodly mess.
Direction and worth are still yet to be found
In the marrow of bones carelessly strewn about.
I'd shout "murder!" but courtesy cuts my voice short,
Emotional reinvestment pressed straight to court.
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