“There, I just said it. I’m scared you’ll forget about me.” -John Mayer
Will my books of poems just sit on the shelf?
(Will they) ever be read by anyone else?
In a world where everyone baits for clicks
There’s anxiety that my stuff just won’t stick.
Will the things that I create
Stand the test of time? (Is it)
Yet another case of
Out of sight, then out of mind?
New posts and opinions come out every day (why would)
Anyone care what I have to say?
We’re all searching for meaning, a sort of permanence
All while fighting to maintain relevance
Maybe my words won’t last
I’ll swallow that reality
But I’ll keep and collect them,
guard and protect them
Even if just for me
“What bothers me most is being another unremembered casualty. We all want to be remembered.”
-The Fault In Our Stars