Can I tell you a secret?

I am terrified of death.
Think about it, before I was born,
How many lives had ended?
How many names were forgotten?
How many stories never made the history books?
So many people have come before me, and yet it is as if they had never existed at all. so many lives will follow mine, and will never know I was here.
Because even as they come to an end... the world will just keep going. Unhindered by the loss. She will not pause just because I stopped going.. no, Earth will continue to turn on its axis as She always has, without favoritism or prejudice. Unending and uncaring. And let’s face it, what have I ever done to deserve otherwise? What changes have I undertaken for the better? I have nothing to show, when this is all over. Undeserving of the immortality that memories create.

i have an Uncle
he steals my money
he steals my ****
and burns it all
in front of me

i have an Uncle
who’s a misogynist and racist
a murderer and ******
a fascist and a terrorist
he stole my Fathers’ lands
he beats my Mother’s womb

he is addicted to white powder
black blood and green gold
he worships forces
to seize control
over every mind, body, and soul
my Uncle belongs in prison
but he owns those too

when he was six, he wanted to be a soldier
and he ran around with sticks and a too-big helmet on his head
and a raging fire of courage in his heart
and his grandfather pulled him into his lap and asked what he fought for.
his chest puffed up
and his chin jutted out
and his little voice squeaked, "I fight for what is right!"
and his grandpa shook his head and shooed him off to play.

when he was ten, he still wanted to be a soldier
and he came home one day with bruises on his elbows
and too much hurt in his heart
and his father asked him what was wrong.
his chest fell
and his chin shook
and his voice quivered when he said, "I fight for what's right."
and his father gave him a hug and talked to him about it.

when he was twelve, he still wanted to be a soldier
and he tried harder than everyone else to prove he had it in his head
and the determination in his heart
and his father got him his first .22 and showed him how to shoot it.
his chest puffed up
and his chin jutted out
and his voice cracked when he said, "I fight for what's good!"
and his father shook his head and taught him more.

when he was sixteen, he still wanted to be a soldier
and he walked around with a broken hand from having too big a head
and too much anger in his heart
and his doctor asked him what he did
his chest burned
and his chin clenched
and his voice was more growl when he said, "I fight for what's right."
and his doctor shook his head and told him not to do it again.

when he was eighteen, he signed up for the army
and he pushed himself harder to prove he still had it in his head
and the motivation in his heart
and his grandfather got sick that year and called him to his bedside.
his chest ached
and his head fell
and his voice broke when he said, "I still fight for what's right."
and his grandfather's hand went limp in his.