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.
Nice....
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