TOMBSTONE

I have a name.
it is carved upon my face.
I have a birthdate, and a date of death.
they too are gouged into my flesh.
"gone but not forgotten" I tell the world,
but no one knows me, so who can remember?
sometimes they bring me flowers, but they are meant for another.
I sit here every day, despite the weather.
wind and rain beat at me, and I can't help but laugh.
I am not filled with mirth, but sadness oftimes consumes me.
I have to make an effort to retain my sanity.
for though I am granite, marble and bronze,
the tears and sobs I see daily,
scar me as deeply as even the strongest of gales.
a hundred years I've stood my vigil,
and a hundred more will see me yet here.
my existence is my curse.
a life surrounded by death, sadness, and sorrow.
and the knowledge that morning brings the same tomorrow.