cemetery memories:

Walking up to the cemetery you see a man seated upon a log. Within the fog. Writing down memories long gone. He has suffered from events that were so wrong. So vile. So tragic. Now he spins these tales like magic. Poetry in motion. A song fills the air like waves fill the ocean. Upon a strong tide he brings the power of emotions. Sitting here feeling encompassed by emotions like snow on a mountain. Beautiful but dangerous . Life is a warped journey and the view from here is quite murky. Looking out over the headstones. To me this is my home. Blanketed in darkness on this cold night. I sit here amongst my kinfolk alone with them. Tonight underneath this moon so full I write. In this fog i see these ghosts of trees that bend. For I am strange and dont fit in.