What was the point of this
Now you're just spine in ground
Vertebrae caked with soil
Rotting dark meat
Holes in skin
What was the point of wearing that seatbelt
Watching your posture
Getting those glasses that made you self-conscious
Because of the future
What about the future
There was no future
Now you're just skull under mound
of topsoil, soul left, mouth open filled with ants
This is like a horror movie