Don't we all wonder that even when we die
What will people think about us
What will they say?
Will they talk about our pretty faces and perfect smiles?
Or will they talk about how many times we lied?
Will they finally appreciate our inner beauty?
Or will they count all those years we lived by?
What have we done to make ourselves count after death?
Will they remember our names after a day?
But as I think more about this; my head starts exploding
For a person so invisible; so diffident
It's painful to swallow that even his death won't make any difference.