sometimes when i think about life—
everything that follows
after a breath or a dream
almost feels like none of it is mine,
if you're constantly unhappy with how things are,
how far would you go to change things?
would you give it all up?
risk everything just to find out that everything
you've done up to this point,
no one pointed a gun at your own head but yourself.
so after all of the bad decisions and wishful thinking,
who's really causing you to feel this way?
it's really just you.
when you die,
you're going to know that it was all you,
all along.
no one else.
just you
YOU ARE READING
memento mori // poetry
Poetry" remember that you have to die " memento mori - /məˌmɛntəʊ ˈmɔːri/ noun an object kept as a reminder of the inevitability of death, such as a skull
