the memory that will be me

poem

I sit alone. my heart cracks, darkness blares, and death laugh.

The worlds briteness is a knife to me and it makes me weak at the keens. I will soon be but a memory.

I sit alone and try to get them to love me .

I sit alone and cry.

I sit alone and try to get them to love me.

I sit alone and ask why.

My pain is like dirt they are thoring on my grave this body can not be saved.

I sit alone and try to get them to love me.

I sit alone and crave alot of time its for the grave.

The dirt is whaing me down and my masks will not buy time.

I hear the chatter of the bugs its they alone that will feast on me.

I sit alone and try to get them to love me.

I sit alone in the darkness that was lift for me.

i sit alone and try to get them to noesies me but when i am not there i allways seem to disapear.

i sit alone and lisen to what i here.

i sit alone and try so herd not to disapear.

when the dirt hits my face i starts to erace.

what will be lift of me when i starts to become that memory?

by terra chadd