As death approaches slowly
And I wait lowly.
There comes a stop to remember
For what felt like forever.
As memories rush past me
Sorrow hatred and maybes,
It is your face that stands out
It is your silence that speaks aloud.
The words we spurred were a few
At most they were one or two,
Your soul, character, being unknown
So ages after why must I feel torn?
In my life time your existence briefly passed by
Like a quiet dandelion soaring through the sky,
I have met many beings in my life
But at my deathbed only you come to mind.
To you, who I met on a rainy day
To you, whos eyes had a alot to say
My unrequited hope is that you found your way
My unrequited hope is that you remember me too someday.
YOU ARE READING
Alternate Viewpoint.
General FictionThe work of someone is to uncover the depth of their being, for literature is nothing but collective thoughts of millions who happened to think for a bit longer.
