I watch myself
Dig my own grave,
Out by the place
We muttered over broken glass,
Near the rock coated in ash.

            Will you be here tomorrow
            When I'm not?
            Will you be here tomorrow
            When I've gone?
            Will you be here tomorrow
            Mourning, or moved on?

I see myself whisper
Goodbyes
To the still trees and the riverbank,
I am inaudible when it matters,
As I always was.

I wonder if anyone will hear the shot,
Or if in death, like life,
I'll be ignored as well as forgot...