Last Will (Written in Stone)

My friends, my family,

I write this with the last of my breath,

the last iota of energy I have left in this world,

though I doubt this parchment will be found

among transient slums.

This whole time I was gone, many of you put up

with the blossoming depression growing in my fertile mind.

And through the course of my life,

it grew into a Weeping Willow.

My eyes were blind to many things,

and I let the moment pass by,

as its calls were fallen upon deaf ears.

I never met my savior,

never loved her, never known her,

never had children with her, 

and never grew old with her.

I never owned that house with a picket fence,

only a small castle of cardboard, and I never interacted with

any sort of rival or friend ever since then.

My words were never read to, I have nothing of value,

nothing to share among anyone. I never had a family,

never was the father of a new generation

that could bring this world into a better time.

This decline was predetermined; it was never in my control.

I cried and cried alone, with only the indifferent eyes

of vassals looking down upon this pitiful specimen.

As I begin to pass away, as I feel this spirit

leaving this vessel, I can only hope that all debts are paid off,

that all my friends are happy today and forever,

but with dreams never realized,

and my rest morose and disturbed.

I thank you all for sticking with me through thick and thin,

and I thank my devotion to the prayers that weren't answered.

 

Now I must pass. I must leave this world...

...but I will come back to this world, sooner, later, or never.

And I hope to have a different kind of life that I've had before...

 

And I hope to see you again.

Author's Note

This is a two-part poem discussing two possible futures, concerning what I would reflect on during the last day of my life. This one shows a more negative future.