This dark and deep poem from Joseph Emerson comes from the soul and brings to the surface the fears we all have about living life to the fullest without wasting a moment.
I scratched and I clawed my way, several feet up
intuitive, survival instincts had quickly kicked in,
I punched my way through the tamped surface
a ghost of a chance, that I’d let the Devil win.
As I rose up to the surface en route towards the stars
I could feel the chill wind blow against my face,
I looked beside me as I detected a slim glimmer
a headstone reflecting the moonlight in my space.
My name delicately written in a standard Celtic font
my birthdate and yesterdays are joined by a dash,
every sense leaves me in the pulse of my heartbeat
as it feels that my presence turned to dust in a flash.
Too late for regrets, and denial is too long overdue
to die with great dignity and respect I cannot save,
I just have to lie with the realization that I,
have wasted my entire existence digging my grave.