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centuriesoldandmilesaway:

There once was a girl in a tattered dress, 

and her face was a picture of distress.

With her hair in her face 

and her dress of ripped lace,

who was this girl in this peculiar place?

The girl floated through without a sound,

between stone and ivy and lopsided mounds.

You won’t find her wary,

she knows what they bury,

in the quiet, empty cemetery.

The girl thought they must be very lonely,

with no visitors but this girl only.

She grinned and she hummed,

so they’d know she had come,

and she traced their graves with her crooked thumb. 

So she murmured kind words from up above

just cause they’re gone doesn’t mean they’re not loved.

and the fog got thicker

and her candle flickered

she heard their thanks in in an hazy whisper.  

Alone in the graveyard, a curious sight.

Talking to the dead in a misty half-light. 

It was enough to make anyone wonder

why her dearest friends were six feet under.

By: Monica Jean

(Photo not mine, words are :])

(Source: walkyouthroughthiswonderland, via ahighspeedcollision)