When I die,
I will slowly fade away.
The memory of me,
Will slowly be forgotten.
As I lie underground.
My heart no longer,
Beating.
As I lie underground.
My mouth no longer,
Breathing.
The roots of the trees up above.
Slowly suffocate my figure.
Slowly mould with my bones.
The soil around me,
Paints colors of brown and black,
Becoming my permanent shade.
Eventually, I become one with nature.
Eventually, I will be forgotten.
I will only be a sliver of a memory.
No longer laughing,
With those I love.
No longer loathing,
With those I despise.
They move on,
While I am stuck.
They don't look back,
And I am stuck in the past.
I am an artifact of nature.
I am the breeder of this tree.
I am the supporter of these roots.
I am mother nature's prisoner.
YOU ARE READING
Beautifully Broken>> POETRY
PoetryJust sad tears that streamed down my face and splashed onto paper, telling my life.
