The forgotten one

The forgotten one

Alone in a crowd.
I walk and I talk.
But in truth I’m truthfully dead.
As I walk through this lonely world.

I gather wood and find my nails.
I grab my tools and get to work.
Pound, nail, sand and plane.
Building my bed of death.

I find a large stone and drag it home.
I find my chisel and grab my hammer.
And make use of the skills I've leared.
Chiseling the stone that marks my place.

I take my shovel and walk.
And find myself the old oak tree.
My shovels blade pierces the earth before its roots.
Digging my final home.

I put my coffin in my grave.
And place my tomb stone before it.
I sit back and watch my life pass by.
And wait for my body to join my soul.