The Forgotten

We are the forgotten. The people no one will remember. The ones people will forget. Not exceptional just ordinary. We are the majority; we will be remembered as a whole. Not part of the bigger picture. We leave nothing behind. We didn’t change the world. Or make history. People don’t look up to us. Or know our names. But did the remembered, ever think it was better that way. Those that are remembered aren’t people but rather a picture drawn and painted. By what they did or for somewhat they didn’t. What they were. What they weren’t. How they changed the world, for better or for worst. People are remembered in black or white, rarely in shades of gray. I am happy to be forgotten, I will not do what it takes to be remembered I won’t take the risk of being remembered for something I wasn’t. For if that is how I am remembered, was I really ever how I am. I know that just because I will be forgotten, doesn’t mean I wasn’t here. Who cares if I am forgotten when I am gone, because if someone was around to care. I would be remembered.