I wonder what will happen when I die
Like who would sit at my grave the longest
How often loved ones will visit me
I hope they'll have the time
Or like what wondering teen
will stop by my headstone
Reading the dates
Doing the math in their head of how long I lived
I wonder the amount of teens who will use my grave for pictures
I hope that they feel the presence of my ghost sitting next to them
Chills down their spine
A cold breeze
The wind chimes singing
even if there's no wind
I hope they stand by my grave
Reading whatevers left on it
Staring at my picture
Whispering to themselves
"I would've loved her"
YOU ARE READING
Brain Vomit
Poetrysilly little poems about my silly little thoughts. A lot of these are more ranty sounding than poem-y. I'm awful at descriptions and titles, I feel like to an extent I title my poems like Midwest emo songs I'm so sorry lmfao my target audience is p...
