My life seems unimportant as I wrestle in the shadows, <br />And feel that all my days have been a curse, <br />So little I've achieved for all my words are soon forgotten, <br />And lost within the rhymes of clouded verse. <br /> <br />For no one shall remember me when I am here no longer, <br />Nor place a single flower on my grave, <br />Or kiss the stone where I do lie or weep a mourning teardrop, <br />A kindly word for me no one shall save. <br /> <br />The grass shall grow around me there until my name is hidden, <br />Which over time will slowly fade away, <br />Until no one can read it then my stone will surely crumble, <br />So ridden by the forces of decay. <br /> <br />Its dust shall blow upon the wind and never will it settle, <br />My spirit too shall never find a home, <br />But go on searching for the dream I never found when living, <br />Across the hills and mountains I shall roam.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-life-122/
