On the eve of my demise, I woke up in an I don’t understand world. So tranquil as it’s words frozen Pictures too bright for my vision Path so fragile as no-one ever walked over Couldn’t feel any beats or breath intakes My thoughts don’t feel mine anymore, Somewhere in this untold crowd I think I see things, but you nowhere. On the day of my demise, strolling over my regrets and relish found a piece of paper with a single syntax in a language I can never decipher resembling the imposters of being alive and echoes from an unfinished poem written by this coward poet, who don’t know that letting go is better, better than clinging to something and hurting oneself. On the very next day of my demise, I was found guilty, for not being there to wipe my mom’s eyes, and every tears shedded for my reminiscence. Unable to undo any memory I ever created in you On all tomorrows after my demise I’m so sorry for being alive, alive somewhere in you.