A manic poem

Can you hear the Silence?
Can you see the dark?
Can you feel what goes on at the park? Little boy dead there, there's nothing to see, but roses and petal leaves drop as the floor board freezes

When sun shines and women pray they find dead bugs and letters in pieces,
till they go to see the end of their way, another day in never land.

Do you know what time it is?
I thought it was 6 o clock but then I looked down at my watch and it shows that it's 12 o clock

When oceans fly by they swing the sea, towards a never ending deserted flee.
They manic their issue and wiggle their tissues thinking they could write this poem but all they do is type and type, the manic depressive light they wipe. A manic poem that won't sew light.

Forever gone, forever dark.
I can't hear nothing but birds chirping and im shrouded by fog to see light,
the light dims, the tunnel stays but the mind still exists, so I disembark
Hidden 6 feet under an oak tree

Lost in the wind but found at sea
My soul raises, my heart lowers, mind still there but I coexist, with nothing but a puzzle of the boy I once was.
Forever alone at the park, with nothing but roses and petal leaves and the ground above my body that's never again seen.