Death.
Usually a sad topic,
Had now felt normal to you.
The though of dying,
Being gone.
Forgotten.
You were scared,
Not of dying,
But being forgotten.
You had grown fond of death,
The thought,
The word,
The meaning.
But being forgotten,
In your mind,
Shouldn't be a part of it.
You wanted to be remembered.
You wanted people to weep at your grave.
But it wasn't likely.
You were a loner,
Drowning in the waves,
While people watched.
You were sinking slowly,
In the depths of your own ocean.
You thought nobody would care,
But they did,
They cared.
YOU ARE READING
Cry
Poetry100 word stories. - warning! Talks about suicide, self harm, abuse, etc. read at your own risk. this is your only trigger warning. -
