Walking into the nearest graveyard,
With a childish curiosity in mind,
Looking at the silent graves,
With an irresistible gutsy attitude.
Dusting off the dead leaves from a lonely grave,
With a freedom bestowed by choice,
Sitting on the grave cautiously,
With a deep breath to the corners of lungs.
Placing the legs on the dark grasses,
With one hand on the freaky heart,
Waving hands at the flying bats and broken skulls,
With a childish mischievousness.
Smiling at the shadows of creepy trees and graves,
With a pat to the adventurous heart,
Gazing at the beauty of moonlight from the graveyard,
With a thrill of madness driven by fun.
© People and Hearts
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