To be stripped away from all pride, one attained and one born with, to no longer hold the liberty over fears of say rejection, well-being, liberty to care and crave for loved ones, is an ignominous way to go. Does the way you live your life hold a greater deal of importance or the way all of it ends? The way you die is the way you're remembered. Found lying cold on the hard and bricky pavement by a man that lets out a sigh not because of the potential life that's lost infront of him but only because he has to be the one to clean up. Famished to a point there's nothing more than bones left, leaving you unrecognisable, any chance of loved ones visiting, gone. Leave loved ones, the world wouldn't recognise you as gone, forever denied of a slip that recognises you as dead. Maybe you're after all not put to rest, in a grave with flowers picked out especially for you, which would have sufficed for all the hardships forced to endure, but instead left on the bricks, maggots around famished, choosing to starve than eat out the dead meat that lay infront, that tasted more bitter than death itself, it's dehumanizing.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.06 seconds at 8:07pm on Oct 26, 2025 via server WEBX1.