Its been a strange life
and there’s hole in my memory,
but when I die, I hope
you will remember me.

The scars on my body
were from the fight
to not visit this cemetery,
cause life is hard
but dying is ******* scary.

As I was working
I was always a little wary,
people are messed up
and it gets really hairy.

But I tried to be the kind of guy
who went out of his way
to be kind and nice.
I wasn’t looking for
a great big reward
but I hope people realize
no one is perfect
and sometimes it took work
to not be a great big ****.

So, as I pass this last slapshot,
push forward with my best
sports metaphor
cause I always admired
the struggle it took
to strive higher
and inspire the fighter
in this lonely writer.

I guess what I meant by this mess
of poetic rambling and internal distress
is remember me
when I am deceased.