Ghostly I wander, with my pickaxe in hand and my rifle on back.
Silence infest within the midnight graveyard.
Lines after lines I searched across the graves,
for the ones with my name carved on.
I'm not a hunter chasing after a vampire.
I'm someone hunting for their past.
Silently I sat, with my back against an empty gravestone on a newly dig pit.
Shadows project under the silver shine of moonlight.
Lines after lines my searches came to an end,
for the ones with my name carved on lies there wordlessly.
$$
Underneath buries a child's cheerful glimpse.
Here lies a half-baked youth's wild dreams.
Down below is a just-inside-adult's devout prayers.
$$
I'm not a joyful graverobber skimming off a treasure chest.
I'm someone rushing into a dusty sealed curse.
Insanely I went, digging out the coolers buried underneath the graves.
Inside piled up my long lost courage, my hopes and dreams.
With a sugary knife I cut myself open, trying to restore myself from an empty shell.
Rashly I tried to grab, filling them through the lately-formed-cut on my chest.
They refuse to get in.
A fact over clear that my soul deteriorated time after time.
I let my hands go,
they fell to the ground.
Piece by piece the corpse of my spirits soaked to the earth.
Panicked, lost, I bumped like a child searching for way out of a dark warehouse basement,
eventually falling into that newly-dig-pit.
There I saw a beam of shimmering light, so dim but so shine.
Swallowing dread down my throat, bearing ache on my chest,
I climbed out the pit.
There, in front of my empty grave, squats a girl with emerald eyes.
Her smile shining beneath the silver light.
Take my hand. She whispered, dragging me out of my darkness.
I reached out mine.
Hands in hands, we fade away,
with no more need in looking behind.
后记
成为文学部员之后写的第一首真正意义上的诗。致莫妮卡。
从第三节开始放飞自我，但总之确实是想要传达的东西。Oh gosh I must be sounding like Act 2 Yuri.
