I'm dying but can only think of this;
Lying in some corner of a foreign field
That shall forever be my grave in that
Cold earth lie colder bones concealed
Which were once born, shaped, made aware
Who once loved and held families dear
Bones of men once breathing the fresh air
Now taken by death and decayed over time
I think this while my blood bleeds away:
"It's the circle of life, no more, no less
I'm giving back what I've once been given"
As slowly sight and sound and light fade
And laughter learnt by friends, dies out
I think only this: "Atleast I have company"