here is yet another midnight poem because i like torturing myself, plus i wanna make sure my streak is always higher than JATG’s ehehehe (words before disaster)

———

death.

the anticipated eternal sleep.

it’s normal to be afraid of such things,

but why must our legacy fade?

even the best things we’ve done

will fade,

and we will all find ourselves

dead, not able to do a thing about it.

this is why i hope a heaven is above,

where i can continue to live,

and write,

and be at peace.

however,

there is a possibility

that is not true,

and we will all

sleep forever

in our graves

as the impacts we made

are forgotten.

the fear of losing my friends,

my family,

not being able to write,

never waking up,

it can all be described as death.

if there is no heaven above,

if i’ve been too bad in my lifetime,

i will never forgive myself.