The Wraith Poem by Bill Hammersley

Night follows night and I sit here in my chair
Afraid to sleep, afraid to bare my hidden desires buried there
The walls of my abode hold secrets never told
So dark, so hidden in my soul
Within my soul, my dreams, my fears
The fears of years gone by, of wasted dreams imaginings through the years
And yet I cling to hope, desires of what might come
The future in my later age portends the tones of doom
Still I hold hope of many things to come
Humanities destiny to foretell
Of doom that seems inevitable
And there at my door a knock, so gentle and still
I hear and answer with great dread
A wraith floats past me, through me, and asks
“What have you done to make your life worthwhile? ”
God knows I try and try again
To make my life worth something then I stumble and fall anew
No hope for something worthwhile. What is it that drags me through the depths of emptiness?
To the edge of my distress
Yet the wraith demands an answer
“What have you done to make your life worthwhile? ”
From beneath my conciseness, a life of waste and helplessness
No hope for recompense, Of empty promosises I did fear
Would ever come to happen, of wishes yet so dear
A wasted life And the wraith looms
To ask why I am here
Why was I thrust upon this earth, this isle
“What did you do to make your life worthwhile? ”
To leave this life alone. To come and take
And not to make my mark for those so dear for whom I do forsake
The love I can't return yet value so dear
I am but one of so many here on Earth. What could I have done
To make my life worthwhile?
I have lost to make my mark
On all that comes to pass
I have been but a moment in time
That will not last
A lost and empty soul upon the heap
Of all gone by made waste a difference in passing
My life is what I pass the time while waiting to die?