In her room,
While she was applying paint on the canvas..
She stopped for a moment and looked around the room,
She thought how she need more space and should get rid of the extra stuff..
She again thought about it..
She often thought about writing her will..
Of course she didn’t accomplish anything so,
She didn’t have any property etc.
It’s just she thought about her books, paintings, clothes..
Her diaries that she kept so dearly since her childhood..
Maybe they could help someone..
She observed how difficult it is..
For the left-behind family to deal with the material things..
After their loved one moves on to the next world..
As if the trauma isn’t enough..
She just wanted to make it easy for others,
to settle her belongings after she will leave…
She didn’t feel depressed while she had such thoughts,
She felt Realistic..
It’s just as you grow-up..
Death becomes something of the only definite and sure thing that
Will consume literally
everyone and everything….
She hoped people could remember only the good things about her,
She as a foolish person did,
When she’s deep in the ground..
She heard a loud sound outside and snapped out from it..
She saw where she was and laughed..