Dieing Of Existence

If I died,

In my sleep,

My own blood surrounding me,

My eyes still closed,

Wounds still open,

No one would care,

No one would see.

If I left,

With a trail of blood behind,

Begging to be followed,

No one would come,

No one would hear the plea.

I don't exist,

Not anymore.

For all I know,

I never did.

If I lay dieing,

In horrible pain,

No one would comfort me,

No one would soothe my pain.

And if I am wrong,

No one will know,

No one would correct me,

As I lay dieing,

Dieing in my pool of blood,

Dieing of my own existence.