The Grave

This is actually part of a novel I'm writing, so it may seem weird without the context of the novel (which I'm not releasing until I'm finished with it), so interpret as you wish. :) :P

I am not here to tell you the tales of a traveler

Nor am I here to tell you the tales of a poor maiden

I am not Prince Charming

I am not Death nor am I Life

I come from lands that hold no meaning

No meaning and no sound and no light, and you

Well… You would not survive

Your lips would turn to stone as they may now

Your heart would beat with irregular footsteps

Your ears would go blind

No, don’t try to say that you would survive

There is no surviving, even for the weak

As for the strong, you will be the first to go

Because the strong are always left caring for the weak.

It wasn’t your decision, was it?

You feel Anger

Grief

Anguish

You must be a monster

You have to be a monster

What else is capable of feelings so dead?

The grave, the grave knows it all.

Author's Note

I'm open to any kind of criticism, just be nice. :) Thanks so much for reading!