I leave..

When the world seems to fall apart,

And you seem to be living on the side of dark.

When the faith mustered melts as ice,

And all things wrong start seeming nice.

Is when I think of my final day

When I'd be freed from my pain and dismay.

I see myself in a wooden box,

Some place I'd like to be, I thought.

People are around, no sign of tears,

No tissues, no memories, no fears.

Wearing big smiles and in the latest couture,

Men and women come to see me go.

Safely tucked inside the walls of a coffin,

Overwhelmed by the comforts of the expensive satin.

A tiny black box, well carved, looking good,

Silver plating on the edges perhaps,

If I could afford a fortune as much, I would.

In style I'd be sent to a place unknown,

Who'd care where I'd go as long as I'm gone.

Buried or burnt which would be the task?

Cover me up with logs of wood,

To make sure even the last glimpse of me wouldn't be seen,

Even if it would.

Dug so deep I'd be, even my cries would stifle,

Lit on fire to see the last bright side of me.

A tear shed perhaps, due to the toxic smoke,

No one would have anything to say, not a single bloke.

'Who cares? She's gone, get on with life, move on,

Every year, same day, if I remember perhaps,

I'll think of her, else who cares, she's past.'

I'll be gone and in 10 years from that day,

I'll remain to be just a photo that one might put on their profile today.