Ghost Town from Lower by Wishing Well

The fields are always greener on the other side of the road
when all I can see is dirt and buried bones
Well, I watched my father make the grave his home
as I spent many nights staring out the window
wondering who he was whispering to, hands folded, as he laid
in bed sick with a fever.

It was the same bed where I used to rest my head when I was a kid
while I listened to my mother tell me stories of a man
who gave his life for this entire land, she said
he's preparing us a room for when we die
but when he took my father's life, I decided
he wouldn't take mine.

His last words are painted on the walls of my mind,

"My beloved son, the battle's won, and I'm at peace, know you are loved, stay strong, believe"

He was gone before I spoke another word.

All I can feel is this pain and this hurt.

As I shovel this dirt and bury one last memory.
This town's a ghost town
Nothing's left here for me

I can save myself

• Indie
• Spoken Word
• spoken word poetry
• Sioux Falls