It Is My Name That Is Engraved

Where am I, who am I, why am I here, what don’t I remember

I look around at my surrounding, I couldn’t possibly live here,

Where is my home, the house I grew up in, the country town

I don’t feel good or feel right, I’m crying but can’t feel my tears.

***

I sit here gazing at the scenery in front of me, it’s a tombstone

Things are so confusing, it’s my name engraved and etched in,

But I’m way too young, it must be the future I’m seeing, I hope

It can’t be my time, I’m not finished with the life that I’m living.

***

I have all these plans for the future, wishes, dreams and goals

Endeavours to make something of my life, to walk in kindness,

Help to build a better world, be a voice for the silent animals

Lift the downcast, protect our forests, speak up to remind us.

***

But here I sit, silently, futilely looking at what must be my grave

Something has gone wrong, that much is plainly obvious to me,

As I look down at my hands, my legs, just a shadow of myself

I’ve escaped the coffin, the buried earth, but I’m not really free.

***

Oh why is it I cannot remember, what was it that has happened

My last recollection is when I climbed happily into my cosy bed,

But I’m guessing I fell asleep, never to awaken, was I murdered

I didn’t die naturally, but I must have met with foul play instead.

***

It slowly starts to dawn on me, how I woke to a slamming door

Sitting up and trembling, knowing I live alone, who could it be,

Then my bedroom door slowly begins to open, as I sit in terror

In sweeps a man, dressed entirely in black, his face I can’t see.

***

He pins me to my bed and before I could even consider running

I feel a noose forcefully wrapping me, until it encircles my head,

And the noose is slowly, excruciatingly slowly, drawn the tighter

I can no longer breathe, no longer see, until eventually I’m dead.

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Originally posted on Medium