What is the purpose of me being here?

Slowly dying day after day,

Waiting for the abrupt moment to leave everything behind.

Wanting nothing but peace.

Knowing what we will feel when that moment arrives,

Wanting to live more than ever,

But it will be too late for all the regrets we have.

And the goodbyes and I love you's that we want to express.

For everyday is a gift that you have unknowingly taken for granted,

And when the time comes all eyes are on you or are they?

Awaiting your final destination,

In a box six feet under or the sea,

For it is too late and everthing about your life is history.

Your memory is your only existence,

And even the memories slowly or quickly fade away,

And the time you spent on this Earth, memory and existence,

Is the only thing left we have to share and it is too late for that