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Everyone I love is going to die, 
and I will die as well.
 I think about this before I sleep, 
and have since I was a child. 
In my life will I make a difference? 
In my death will I be missed? 
Will I be granted some sort of an afterlife, 
or will I just cease to exist? 
This fear makes me feel so naive,
 I wish that I could just accept,
 but I'm chilled by the redundancy
of thoughts collected, but not kept. 
Maybe I'm still a stupid little boy, 
too weak to understand what will come. 
I want to find peace of mind,
 maybe no mind is the answer to that condundrum.

 Oh I want to be a baby again. 
Oh I want pure thoughts in my head. 
Oh I want to be a baby again. 
Oh I want to forget.

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