I.
"Some cemeteries are almost beautiful."
There was a grey lump of dirt gated off,
It was the earth displaced each time
Someone new arrived.
II.
There was a disturbance somewhere
There always are at times like these
But you must stay from all affairs
The lightest folds still show a crease.
I'm not afraid to die, or show
Some fear of that disturbance in
The world. If I would fold I'd know
I'd leave a crease but there'd be peace
Within.
III.
It's so much darker back up north
And nowhere near as green:
The ground is cold and sleeping
Rather than warm and vibrant.
But only one of these worlds fits me
Much better than the other.
Fragments collected from a continuous poem written April 19 - 22 during a school trip to New York City.
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