Dying Young

I’m afraid of dying young Of leaving things yet undone I’m afraid I’ll leave this place Yet not leave a single trace I’m afraid I haven’t said All that lives inside my head I’m afraid I’ll disappear And no one will hold me dear. I’m afraid I’ve yet to touch The hearts of those I love so much I’m afraid I’ll never see Who it is I’m meant to be I’m afraid, for can’t you see? Not much time is left for me. I’m afraid, oh, I’m afraid Soon I’ll lie silent in my grave… With my stories yet untold With my dreams yet to unfold With my songs yet unsung With my words yet on my tongue With my passion tucked away With no more prayers left to pray I’m afraid…… Entered into Richard Lamoureux's Beginnings Matter Contest March 3, 2015 I'm not sure why this is the first poem I chose to post on Poetry Soup. Maybe because the theme of dying is ever present in my mind. I lived with the knowledge that my Mother was dying from an incurable disease and that marked me for life. Writing has also marked me for life. I've always wanted to leave something behind to be remembered by. Most of the poetry I wrote up to this point was for family members and loved ones, things I'd share on special occasions. How I love writing. Poetry is more than a hobby. It is an obsession and a dream. It is therapy. Finding a site where I could actually post my work and get feedback was a dream come true for me. This was my first poem and my first taste of euphoria. Others who love words showed loved for my words. "The rest", as they say, "is history."