What will it take to realise every day when you treat your body and mind like shit,
That’s one more day you add towards the pain and scars to your kin.
Death catches up.
But why care, YOU are not dead..
so therefore, what’s the deal?
Let’s make your stomach turn.
Are you a child? Show ’em.
Are you a parent? Read it.
Oh man i hope you’re a parent.
I want this to hurt you more then it should hurt your children.
You lived in a life when things die they dissapeared.
You didn’t know death was a thing until you heard it from someones lips and saw it on the screens.
You might have experienced death, and perhaps you didn’t change.
What a pity, i score card you 0 sympathy.
So tell me, when you’re signed up to those medications is it because you get to live longer? Or die slower?
Tell me what does it look like when every sign and omen under the sun told you, you needed to change?
That because of relativity,
Our favourite characters on tv,
Made us realise we would miss you dearly.
“Nah. I got shit to do, shit to buy, shit to give you a “good” life.”
Lets speed up the clock.
I’ll let you be creative,
and come up with the plot.
You’re about to witness your own physical death as you watch from the closed eyes of your now decaying corpse.
It’s a nice sunny day, little do you know it’s the last time your skin touches those same sunny rays.
A drink of water,
a look on your calendar, running late?
What are you currently doing on the last living action you’ll ever take?
In your chest? In your head?
What’s the signal that soon will have you dead?
“Fuck I need HELP!”
You lose touch of breath?
The tears finally shed.
My sons are working hard.
My daughters are doing me proud.
And here I am about to go down.
“I’m sorry love of mine, i didn’t listen.”
“You were my world and now i’m going missing.”
“Please don’t take me, please, please, please!”
Begs and internal screams.
All the times you begged god for more but refused to give back to the temple that allowed you those gifts.
The hands to create.
The cells to co-make.
You were the god who denied your power and now you’re about to be 6 feet under.
They think you’re out.
Do you know why they say “they can hear me?” Right? Because they can. You can.
Your eyes may be closed but your soul is exposed.
Your children wear faces, not of pride but of utter disaster.
Let’s face it this doesn’t have a happy ending.
Death comes, she takes, forever ending.
I’ll leave the final goodbyes whether your death was quick and swift or dragged out and shattered to peices.
There is one thing we can agree on,
we all go under.
So lets take this a few days further,
When the rituals of sadness,
Come in numbers.
For this part i want you staring out of the case of your wake, you can’t move your head and you can’t make a sound.
First it’s your family surrounding your cold coloured-in corpse. Crying, asking; “Why you had to go?”
“I’M NOT! I’M HERE, I’M ALWAYS HERE!”
Shoosh. You’ve had time to voice, i was fair and you denied my truth. Now you disappear.
They stay with you the longest.
Then one by one,
They come up to you with condolences.
All your friends,
Even the ones you forgot exist.
You’re being carried to the spot of stillness.
A place of tradition, to evolve from body to tombstone.
Cries in the distance,
those sunshine rays on the other side of your new confining quarters.
I told you the sun will never touch your skin again.
And i say this because i’m a child who watches you go beneath me.
You might know me and you might not.
I might be sitting across from you right now, or at work doing what you taught me.
I might be standing there,
Above you as you get lowered in.
to fade into cold air,
as i already have left you.
Wherever I am,
You said you’d be with me,
for my children, for my wedding.
And now you’ve left me.
And here I look at you with eyes of concern.
You should have listened,
As i throw a rose on your coffin and later that day watch you get covered in dirt.
You denied the signs and now you wear it heavy.
Your purpose were your family and now you are lonely.
You live only in the moment and for that you are a fool.
The day will come where everything you took for granted will be granted-less.
As everything we absorb we push to the side.
This poem will be no different unless you decide.
Decide that it’s time to change your story.
Give yourself more years then expected.
And if not, remember my face because i’ll be watching with eyes of concern from above your own grave.
– A Day To Remember
By Claudio Conte