The day after I died
the world never cried
they forgot my name
moving on much the same
Yet my last poem is found
when looking down
upon my headstone inscription
at the following description

Here lies a poet
with not much to show.
His last greatest poem
the world will never know,
below:

And right above my head
the grandest write cannot be read
for whether they cry or laugh
they’ll find a beautifully blank epitaph