what's going to remain of me when i'm gone?
my worldly possessions will mean nothing.
my people will still exist, but i'll just be a memory.
i will be photos and I will be videos,
i will be thoughts of kindness and of hate.
people will remember my acts of bravery,
my acts of cruelty,
they'll remember the stupid things i've done.
they'll remember the ways i've helped them.
they'll glorify me.
(don't we all glorify those we've lost?)
they'll put me on a pedestal,
and i'll no longer do any wrong,
but they won't remember me for me.
they won't remember my pain,
they won't remember my ache,
(my confusion, my hurt)
(my love, my joy).
no, that's for me to remember.
but i won't be there to remember.
so my life is in the hands of those who knew me,
cold and broken and held together by imaginings of who i was,
of who i'll never have the chance to become,
and i will be gone.
an eulogy is all i'll ever be,
and i have to live with that.
i have to live with the knowledge that nobody will ever truly remember me,
ever truly remember me for who i am,
who i was,
who i wanted to become.
i hope they don't put me on a pedestal.
i don't want to be remembered only by my virtues,
i want my flaws to be remembered as well.
i want people to remember my mistakes,
i want people to remember my sorrows,
i want people to remember my humanity,
because humans aren't perfect.
i'm not perfect.
i wasn't perfect.
i never was,
i never have been,
i never will be.
YOU ARE READING
stillwater
Poetryi've been running for so long that i don't know who i am and you've been chasing me and saving me but i don't know how to end i want to come home because i know you need me and i'm scared of leaving because if i don't come home tonight, you will nev...
