He was there, I was here and the world was all the way over there. He had a shovel in his hand, and another was on the ground. We were friends, and so I helped him move out the sand. We dug for days, we dug for years. It became so my heart will beat, my lungs will breathe and my hands will dig.
It was dark, and I could barely see, but I knew in my heart of hearts that our pit was done. I looked up and he wasn't digging and it hits me with a shock; had he ever done any work? Had his shovel ever even kissed the ground? I look to my hole, and my heart sinks to my soles. I look back up and I see the red in his eyes, I see the jagged teeth and I hear all the lies. Had they always been there -was I truly that blind?
I finally understand and see what has already been done. I had dug my own grave, and I wouldn't see another sun.
It was dark, and I could barely see, but I knew in my heart of hearts that our pit was done. I looked up and he wasn't digging and it hits me with a shock; had he ever done any work? Had his shovel ever even kissed the ground? I look to my hole, and my heart sinks to my soles. I look back up and I see the red in his eyes, I see the jagged teeth and I hear all the lies. Had they always been there -was I truly that blind?
I finally understand and see what has already been done. I had dug my own grave, and I wouldn't see another sun.
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