He works hard.
His house is filled with art.
Diamonds spill
from his pretty wife’s jewelry box.
His children’s beds are coated
in a thick layer of stuffed toys.

At fifty-two
his heart stops
and so does he.

A life filled with everything
and yet
in his last moments
he looks up at the bright fluorescent lights
and begs to start over.

A life filled with everything
with all the riches in the world
but without love
or passion
is a life not lived.

We fill our homes
with trinkets and technology
in a bid to make this life bearable
because next time
we’ll do better.

We will form a charity
or live in the forest.
We’ll spend more time with our families
our friends
take that job we always dreamed of.

We console ourselves
with ideas of heaven
an afterlife
a chance do it all over.

But the real fear that haunts us all
beyond loneliness or poverty
is that when we die
we leave reality
and exit consciousness completely.

We fall asleep and never wake up.

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