The Ghosts Silent Plea

If I die, It's not having my name on my tombstone I fear – I fear the silence from the ones I hold dear. I wouldn't wish for the people to come and mourn, I wouldn't want to remind them that I am gone. It would hurt to see them cry over my stone, While I watch my friends and siblings grow. Watch as my family and friends grow, While I perch where the black crows goes. As years pass and my flowers wilt, I find the grave different from the one they have built. It lies there now—mossy, damp, and torn, The stone once bright, now weathered and worn. The flowers I knew, long withered and tossed, Each petal a memory, faded and lost. They’ve forgotten, through time, what I used to be— But maybe that’s every ghost’s silent plea: To be mourned, then missed, then gently released, To die once more—and at last, be at peace. - Hyacinthus Apollon 🪻