As the clock struck 4:17, silence was upon you.
After climbing to great heights you fell,
Fell into your inescapable fate, which left you lying here,
immobile on the floor.
Dead or just resting, I did not know,
But should I see your cold corpse tomorrow,
I will know there is no escape,
from the grim grip of death.
Your life was insignificant, not a thought was paid to you,
Your role wasn’t one of importance, But one of many, which only together, have
But one of many, which only together, have meaning;
Why should such life be taken?
For no reason or purpose,
Not even time could take the blame.
Such waste for a little life which doesn’t even have a name.
Rest in peace, spider on the kitchen floor.
Just a little poem I wrote in a free lesson I had at school today. Ladies and gentlemen: procrastination at it’s finest.