𝓜𝔂 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓴

My desk is full of painted paintings
That will one day rot in forgotten soils
But the music I love will play on
Without my ears to hear it
And isn't that grand,
For there will be another
Who will hear it's worth and wonder
And through it I will be remembered
When there is nothing more to say,
My name will settle in the back of another's mind
And that will be enough