a wee poem from long time ago

The swamp, it calls to me  

With its murky waters and twisted trees  

A place where life is laid to rest  

But also where its burdens are caressed 

The scent of decay floats in the air  

And the glassy surface reflects despair  

But to me, it's a symbol of peace  

A place where my soul can finally release 

The twisted roots curling underground  

A metaphor for life's lost and found  

The creatures living in the muck  

Representing the fears that we tuck 

The swamp may seem like a place of dread  

But to me, it's where I'll lay my head  

A place where the pain fades away  

And death's sweet release comes to play 

In the end, we all become part of the swamp  

A place where our spirits will romp  

The cycle of life and death it will keep  

And in the waters, our souls will sleep.

(idk man)