Matter
You won't be remembered as a marvel
Or a joy or a pleasure or anything
You won't be loved or hated or thought of
Your memory will marinade in malaise like nothing
Will your friends think of you when you expire?
Only when they send some flowers with the local bargain boy slave.
Which don't matter when you're lying dead
Decaying ten feet under the ground in a maggot-filled grave.
The moon will die and be reborn,
But you will simply die and lie in the ground.
Your soul will not climb into your body like a child into bed
Your body will sit there, eyeless, tongueless without a sound
There is no need to break you,
For you are not worth breaking
You are not alive, only existing,
Never sleeping, never waking,
I wouldn't laugh in the face of your pride,
For that would be a cruel joke,
Because what have you to take pride in,
Nothing said, laughed, loved, spoke,
Words exchanged, souls trembled,
Where are you going with your life?
Not that it would matter whether you live
Or die. Shoot, aim, fire, strife.
I wouldn't shed tears for your years,
Because that would make your mother cry
But how I'd love to repeat and repeat
The same words that will ring in my brain until I die:
In an instant, man will fall and what did it
Matter?
In an instant, the earth will burn and what did it
Matter?
In an instant, the sky will tremor and what did it
Matter? Who will remember the time you hurt your knee,
But you didn't cry and no one said you were
brave?
In a moment, the memories will wash into the dunes and what did it
Matter?
What did it matter? What did it matter? What did it matter?
What did it matter? What did it matter?
Matter?
Matter?
Copyright ©
Sonia Allen
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