My days on earth are numbered, like every other person. My time can vary depending on factors of life and ability. And I see myself with not as many days and not as much time as I really should.
Coming to the thought of death, I see an unreliable build. I find it hard to process that one day, I will no longer be able to breathe, to move, to see. I will not be able to feel the touch of one's hand on my back, one's arm over my shoulders. I will be still and cold and lifeless.
And I see that this day of death will come soon, for I don't see a future for myself. I also find it hard to think that one day I will be my own person with my own responsibilities and my own life as an independent.
So to say shortly, I will not be alive and well. I see a black and cold future ahead of me. No one will be there. I will hear no noise. Everything that I've ever known to exist will be gone.
YOU ARE READING
Spoken Poetry
PoetryThese are some poems of my own. They are about all different things. Some of them can be a little upsetting for younger readers.
