It is late at night, I find myself opening the gates to wander a familiar cemetery.  My notebook is a graveyard of stories, poems and thoughts.  Many of which have been long buried away.  My pen has not only carved their tombstones, but has dug the graves of these lost ideas, forgotten fragments and unfinished works.  

But as I turn back the pages to pay my respects, I cannot help but reinvigorate the mad scientist inside, my Jekyll gives way to my Hyde.  I will reanimate these corpses, and breathe these words back to life.


One thought on “Catacombs

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