Life After My not Being Around

Anytime I ponder about life, After my not being; Around, it perks the skies, And I wish I had been, Just born... Alas! Little kids die too, So, I’m left to touch my feelings And console pains... Then, The flow, Of questions, like; Will I be loved After? Or will I be forgotten? This life Is a shell of glass, That is being trashed, When broken! So, in tears! Why then do I suffer? To be rich, To be relevant, To be famous; To be everything, After all will be forgotten, This life, Isn’t balanced! Life After you is pregnant, And bears, Immediately after you are gone, Live a brand that can, Never be targeted, Even, With a gun! So, I will rot, Smell! After all the luxury! I love the orge, Of thinking In my future, for After all, The future Is where we all live! Just turn back, And look at the future; In your ABSCENCE! ~Tile Tersoo