My life is a dream,
I don’t really exist.
I lurk in the shadows.
I stand in the mist.
My life is a memory
upon a great stone.
I have no more flesh,
decayed is my bone.
The earth is so damp,
I heave a great sigh.
I so want to weep,
but my tears are all dry.
Deep is the pain,
and great is the sorrow,
that never again
shall I wake on the morrow.
Lynn Benjamin
May 1, 1964 (14 years, almost 15)