The end of life,
being forgotten.
It's the silence that comes,
as the wind ceases to blow,
and nature halts its growth.
It's the scream of a loved one,
a trip to the hospital,
feeling the world collapse as the doctors utter the dreaded news.
The view that comes when looking over the edge,
the surface far below you.
It's uncertainty hovering above you,
like a balloon ready to burst.
It can drive you insane,
comfort is hard to find.
It's the world ending too soon,
not living life to the fullest.
The slippery skin of a snake,
threatening to destroy you.
A porcupine's quills and a skunk's spray.
Missing a note in a well practiced composition,
standing in a crowd with the lights on you.
The emptiness of space,
closing in around you.
Drowning in the cold waters of the ocean,
feeling the sharpest edge of a knife.
Nuclear war wiping out the world.
Life ceasing to exist before your very own eyes.
It's being deported to concentration camps,
Auschwitz, Birkenau, Stutthof,
cramped on trains,
running out of oxygen.
It's facing the Nazis,
uncertain whether to make a stand.
Disorganization,
complete confusion.
It's when death comes,
roping you around the ankles,
the lack of strength to break the chains.
But most of all,
it's being forgotten.