No Heartbeats for Dead Men | Teen Ink

No Heartbeats for Dead Men

April 16, 2012
By bananafritter SILVER, Irvine, California
bananafritter SILVER, Irvine, California
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
&quot;I see myself as an intelligent, sensitive human, with the soul of a clown which forces me to blow it at the most important moments.&quot; <br /> --Jim Morrison, The Doors


His chest gave no heartbeat
‘Twas icy as snow
No breath had escaped him
Or not that I know

I was walking alone on a freezing cold night
In a forest of trees, with the moon peeking through
No insects were buzzing, no birds were in flight
But something felt odd, and the feeling was true

For a blood-chilling scream pierced the air with a fire
That burned down the trees to an ear-ringing crisp
It died with the wind as it started to tire
Extinguishing, fading with one single wisp

Morbidly curious, I stepped towards the source
Tracing a path through the echoing notes
And looking back now I am filled with remorse
A shivering not cured by one million coats

His chest gave no heartbeat
‘Twas icy as snow
No breath had escaped him
Or not that I know

A familiar face known from some other life
A puddle of blood being drunk by his shirt
The shimmering sliver of one deadly knife
Buried haphazardly into the dirt

His eyes gave a flutter then gradually shut
I let myself fall to my knees by his side
I lifted the shirt to examine the cut
And saw half the knife was still buried inside

In such a numb panic and shocked mental state
I ripped up the shirt into bandage-like shreds
With red, shaking hands I removed the thick slate
The moon staring quietly over our heads



His chest gave no heartbeat
‘Twas icy as snow
No breath had escaped him
Or not that I know

I picked up his wrist with my heart in my throat
Neither neck nor his chest bore a faint sound of beat
The blood then fell into an uneven moat
So I picked up the knife and I dug a few feet

For hours the handle was plunged in the ground
For hours the dirt was flung into the air
I dragged the dead man who’d not uttered a sound
And dropped him into the damp grave with such care

Then after encasing the dead man in dirt
I said a short prayer and refused to linger
In walking away, I looked back once in hurt
And through the grave layers he thrust one of his fingers

His chest gave no heartbeat
‘Twas icy as snow
No breath had escaped him
Or not that I know


The author's comments:
Once I realized that a ballad was a story, I was inspired to write one that focused more on the eerie and powerful subject of death. I hope that people will experience it's eerie mood and be able to interpret it. :-)

Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.