Remembered

To be or not to be—

the oldest question.

Shall I be good?

Or shall I be bad?

Will I be remembered in the light?

For all the things I have given,

for the love that I carried,

for the sleepless nights of worry,

and the ordinary days I survived?

Or—

Will I be remembered for those dark nights,

for the anger that lived in the void,

for the words that cut like a sword,

and the hatred that I spread?

And what if being remembered

contorts the way I truly lived?

Is it selfish to want to be remembered with love

instead of being spat on at my grave?

Or what if, at the end of it all,

none of it really mattered?

Because being remembered—

only lasts so long.

And maybe one day,

even that will change.