It's the living that bears,
The weight of the dead.
From coffin to bed,
They haunt your head.
But what of me they scream,
Who shall take me?
Time of course,
For one day you shall rival her.
And your wrinkles shall speak,
The stories and yarns,
Of all that you lost,
All that you have seen.
And when she comes,
You will win still,
For even past death you live,
In us, the living's hearts.
And time shall reap us effortlessly,
And we shall continue,
Eternal beings.
YOU ARE READING
Often confusing
PoetrySecond part to a muses musings because wattpad has a story limit. . . I mean an enthralling book of stories
