Midwestern Graveyard

A hay-filled crucifix stands over a cornfield 
scaring away crows, scaring away souls 
rustling leaves cover the sounds of screams 
animal bones scattered across the road
ash is in the air like pollen, clogging up my nose
gray skies and lifeless eyes, floating through the wind 
rustic churches filled with corpses begging that God will keep the dead
but they hide in dilapidated barns or rest in the trees
wandering through the night, dying to leave 
we try so hard to keep them out
breathing in ghosts as I passed another midwestern graveyard
people try and run away, but their souls always come home to sleep 
this drab place of endless fields and dying towns 
yet I see gothic farmers smiling, as weird as it seems 
three hours from humanity, but still at peace 
because at the end of it all, we all end up back here 
wandering through a midwestern graveyard, forgotten 
please don’t hold your breath so you can breathe me in

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