Imagine yourself in 80 years.

In a hard wooden box ten feet under ground

Your family dressed in black crowded around your grave. Stricken with grief

But they all get over it in a month or two.

Even your children forget eventually.

But why would it matter?

Youre dead

You cant see them weeping over your death

You are gone forever

Lost in a sea of forgotten people

Not knowing where you are

Who you were

Or how you ended up there

Because your mind has faded to black

And your life is over forever

There is no after-life

When you die, its lights out

We dont really die

We just expire

We all have a shelf life

Whats yours?