Chased by death
Is a scary place to be.
My mask of pain,
My mummified skin,
My artistic vision,
Is all I have left of what once was.
My mothers memories of my laughs and cries,
My partners opinions of my likes and dislikes,
My sisters thoughts on how I am
No longer the child she used to know,
Is the only important remembrance of who I am.
My home,
My cat,
My car,
My books.
A physical reminder
Of the person
I wish to be perceived as.
Moments Mori is my death
Memento Vivere is my life.
So,
I will live on.
Forever.
Forever.
Forever.
Just for me.
Just for you.
Just for one more moment.
YOU ARE READING
The Littlest of Things
PoetryThings I write because I can. I am mostly new to poetry, but I do enjoy it. These are just small poems that I came up with randomly and may or may not have meaning. Some are fictional some are real. Some are completely made of up some are based on...
