As I lay and stare at the night sky,
I wonder what its like the day that I die,
Will I be remembered,
Will I be forgotten,
As I lie in the ground,
Rigomortis and rotten,
What awaits me on the otherside,
As I edge closer to the day that I die,
My own personal Heaven?
My own personal Hell,
My mind ruminates subconsious memories,
in my own thoughts forever I will dwell,
Who will grieve me,
Will they even cry?
In the moment I become one,
with the day that I die.
Trent Thomas
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