I stare at my undug grave, waiting to be put to rest, waiting for the day flowers adorn my headstone, for the people who were never there for me to pour lies from there eyes and say their condolences, waiting for the day I take my last breath and all my problems just fade into the inevitable darkness that many are afraid of. But my grave remains undug, maybe I should get down on my hands and knees and claw at the ground until the perfect hole appears, like a nice warn bed after along day at school or work, like the warm hug you never received, or when the moonlight shines just right and Illuminates your room, casting shadows to keep you company on lonely nights, I stare at my undug grave waiting for the day I become a pile of of bones deep beneath the earth's soil.