Attempts at discovering myself in my writing

I fantasise about running away,
throwing myself into the scum of the world
and becoming one with it,

Because in the dark and dinge of it all
I will be nameless.

Just a story lost to the passing of time.

Nothing will matter.

Not the things they say
Not the choices I make
Not the life I lived

Because at the end of he day,
when all is said and done,

We all end up six feet under the very same earth.
Laid to rest and forgotten.

Wishful thoughts of a hopeless romantic