Death. Life is so unpredictable, Life is so unfair, One moment you exist, In the other you’re not there, You have lunch with your friends, Have dinner with your girl, And one morning we all wake up, And see you’re not with us. Life shifts from under your feet, You make a move, And then feel nothing, All of you that is left to us, Is just so much grief, All that is left to us, Are just memories, It’s a part of you that people live with, It’s a part of you that people see at, For whatever’s left of you, At the end of the day, Are just the things you did, And just memories.
Theories. Thoughts. Short stories. Poems. Economics?