Ridges inbed in skin,
Would you miss me if I were dead?
Hurt mutually if I bled?
Reminisce of times shared,
Would my memorial be remissable upon decay?
I’m forgettable anyway…
I’m not a prophet nor a poet,
Struggled but lived life to it’s fullest,
In hopes that someday someone might notice,
I’m not afraid to live and don’t fear death!
I’m not scared of being alone.
Long since grown numb to the world.
My only fear’s not being remembered.
Or mourned for beyond the grave.
Because I’m already fading away.
Falling further into nothingness’s embrace.
There is nothing beyond the grave,
The afterlife’s not what they say,
Stone walls of black and grey.