Isn't death a weird thing?
One second you're here,
And the next you're gone.
The people around you mourn,
And they are filled with grieve.
They always think how
They could have treated you different.
But what is death?
It's the absence...
Of presence,
Nothing more.
A gap that you can't see.
It's the fact,
That you're never coming back,
No matter how much people will cry.
It's just a hole,
Where, if the wind blows...
There's no sound...