You and I are not the same.
You have demons in your closet.
I have skeletons dancing on my grave.
I dug this grave myself while dancing with my skeletons in the rain.
A rave in the graveyard and a raven on my headstone. Even here beneath the earth I can't find my home.
So amongst the ghosts I roam.
I am weak and weary so upon this log I sit.
Cold and wet and shivering in the mist.
From my purse I grab a notepad and a pen.
Writing tales from beyond the hearse.
Feeling so sad.
And behold upon the ravens foot someone tied a note.
Am I mistaken?
Or just insane.
It's a note from my old friend Pain.
The cryptic note unravels, inked in dread.
A hidden truth the park has bred.
Beneath the willow, tears it weeps.
A chance to mend, a promise sleeps.
Beneath the willow's weeping bough.
Kneeling down, the earth was damp and cold somehow.
No hidden truth the soil revealed.
Just gnarled roots where secrets were sealed.
A sudden breeze came.
And the leaves, they sighed.
A whispered word, "Turn back," it cried.
I looked around, no one in sight.
But shadows danced in fading light.
Was it my mind, or something more?
A presence felt, unseen before?
A prickling dread, a cold embrace.
The promise of the note, a cruel chase.
But in this shadowed, silent space.
Beneath the Willow’s roots.
A glimmer of hope to stay.
The note speaks the truth.
Pain didn't lie.
A glint of metal catches my eye.
Half-buried deep, a key awry.
Forged from bone, a skeletal form.
A whispered hope amidst the storm.
What door it opens, I can't say.
But a chance for change, it lights the way.



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