Gone

When everything is gone
and there is no more to fear
will I let go
to the things I held dear?
There will be no sorrow
no hate or dread
or what has held me for so long,
keeping me dead.
When this pity is gone,
when the loathing departs
it will bind the flesh
of any beating hearts.
Everything at some point flees
and all is in slow decay
no one will ever know
what I really meant to say.