Words in the wind, cautiously whispered,
He never reacted to those that he heard
- carving his moments into wood to keep,
Fading memories were what made him lose sleep.
Years flying by, regrets steadily grow,
So he attempts to keep on the down low
- more pretty carvings, more memories kept,
Just so they'd overcrowd the days when he wept.
He should've, he would've, he never did,
Those are the theories kept under the lid.
A slip of the tongue, and the entire fortress falls...
And so he keeps ignoring his mind's desperate calls.
YOU ARE READING
A phone book
PoesíaA loose continuation of A Few Hysterical Words, this time focused on character descriptions.