Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Have you ever given this a thought?
Who will mourn your death?
Your better half?
Your loved ones?
Your friends?
Sad to say...
Life doesn't come to an end when you die
The moment your breathing stops
The clock ticks still
The wind blows as usual
The sun still shines
Life continues
Never stopping
Never ending
At the funeral
Your closed friends cry
Your family breaks down
Temporarily grieving
They wear black
They visit your grave
Your name may linger in their hearts
But as they start to laugh again
You became a memory
The world continues
Life moves on....
 Dec 2015 Tasia Howard
MonkeyZazu
A poem isn't effort.

Emotions aren't squeezed out,
but bleed out
into their own being.

The poet
a mere catalyst
for their expression,
letting go of continuous
repression.

Bleeding constructively.
Next page