Written by Ken Carman

Unimaginative minds
See only the world
For what they think it must be
Half empty glass heads
That find it impossible
To even ponder
A “maybe”
Or “instead.”

To unimaginative minds
Dreams are infestations
Demanding extermination
Needing fumigation
Their favorite poison…

…hopelessness

Above the grave
They’d willingly dig for you
In a land of lost possibilities
Here they plot
Making sure hope
Will be buried alive
Over eager to throw the dirt
Taking pleasure in the hurt

Gravediggers
For the mind
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Copyright 2009
Ken Carman
all rights reserved