The grave in an abandoned cemetery

Im the one whos been forgotten, the one whos been left to rot in this overgrown, silent tomb. My stone, once a proud marker of a life, now leans drunkenly, choked by the green embrace of moss and ferns that whisper louder than any human voice ever did. Ive been here a hundred years a century of rain, of wind, of times slow, relentless erosion. The trees, theyve taken root around me now, gnarled and watchful, like the ghosts who never moved on. I remember the days the laughter, the tears, the prayers but now, the only sound is the rustle of leaves and the drip of dew from the sky. My namesakes bones are beneath me, long decomposed, but the names etched into my flesh still cling to me just like the memories of a world that no longer cares. Im not dead. Im just still. And the world has moved on. Its a lonely, haunting, beautiful, and utterly terrifying place a graveyard thats become a living monument to times cruel indifference.

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