The Anonymous Rest

Sometimes the heart holds a secret desire,
That if I die, let me die nameless,
Let my last will be this
No one should look upon my face.
For when the time came to see me,
No one truly noticed this face at all.

This face was but an open book,
Where joy, sorrow, pain, and anger were written clear,
Like leaves washed fresh by the rain,
Yet no one cared to turn its pages,
No one paused to read its lines.

My heart longs to sleep in unfamiliar soil,
A place where no one asks my name,
Where even my grave’s earth is bought with my own hands,
So the world may finally understand
To kill someone from within
Is such a crime,
That even in death, they would refuse
To rest in your land.