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Forgotten

Once upon a time, in a land far away,
There lived a mistress of demise, of death and decay,
She sat in a black thorn garden, surrounded by her peers,
But they never noticed her, not by eyes or ears,
Day by day she sat there, all alone in sorrow,
Plucking out her heartstrings in a song of no tomorrow,
And when the day was over, all was said and done,
She sat at her desk and let the black ink run,
She wrote about her life, her misery and hurt,
She wrote until the planet around withered away to dirt,
Soon she became old and wasted,
None of youth's joys had she tasted,
And as she sat her pen down and sighed,
"It's done - there's no more pain inside",
But she had forgotten the rest,
And just then there came a pain in her chest,
She had a heart attack and died,
No one stopped, no one cried,
The world kept moving without a tear,
This had been her initial fear.