What if I die in poverty?

Known as someone else’s property.

A fear of mine, an unspoken truth,

A shadow cast since my days of youth.

What if my voice is lost in the wind,

Drowned by the echoes of those who sinned?

Will my name be dust on a hollowed page,

Fading whispers, forgotten with age?

What if my dreams dissolve like mist,

Vanishing fast in fate’s cruel fist?

Will I be trapped in endless night,

Or will I find my way to morning’s light?

What if my worth is weighed in gold,

And all I am is bought and sold?

A fleeting ember, a silenced breath,

Defined by wealth, erased by death.

But fear is but a fleeting ghost,

A liar’s tale, a hollow boast.

I’ll carve my name in stone and sky,

And live, not fear, before I die.