It hurts when you come to realize
You don't mean as much to someone as you thought.
There's a special kind of pain for being forgotten, easily replaced and discarded. And it's a pain that comes to you from different angles. But a pain that lingers and weights you down as well.
It never truly goes away
Never slowly dissipates
It's always there
Ephemeral; yet forever
Time can mute it
Shave down the jagged edges
But it's always there
Your constant reminder.
YOU ARE READING
Dead Poets
Poetry"Poets are among the damned, cursed to commiserate over their loss, to reach with outstretched hands-" -Lang Leav
