When we die,

We'll be forgotten,

But what can we say when

We're forgotten

While alive?

 

What am I to think

When I am invisible?

When I am cast aside?

When I am the problem?

Who is there to see me for me?

Does death then hold no meaning?

Is death even worth fearing?

Or is it rather embraced

As a means of escape

From those who

Don't care

At all?