Dust

I look to my artwork
Pinned onto my walls
And scattered pages of poetry
Like Autumn leaves, upon my floor
And the memories, and sentiments
Like my heart, on my sleeve
Lies also on shelves
And an array, of my colourful attire
That i adore, and adorn
Hanging, like ghosts
As well as my footwear
Although slightly worn
I view all this with sadness
As i know that when i die
All of these myriad memories
Will be dumped into black sacks
Then discarded, and forgotten
And it will be as if
I never existed at all
by Jemia