What started as a mere collection of thoughts
Memories held tightly as a women would be held
Burns...
Every last page turns to ash resembling sand
As I stand watching the flames burn my years away
The pain that sits beneath my dying chest does not leave
A dying man wishes for some release in this cold world
But wishes don't come true just like they day I lost her too...
My window opens my sight to things I could care less of
But the world recreates and builds on top of hatred
I witnessed horrible things and my nightmares never stopped
Every poem took me more and more away from this world
Even with her right next to me, I could not feel her
I watched as she left with tears covering her face
The echo of the door shutting remains fresh
I'll never know of her love again, but she remains apart of me
Although I enjoy the memories of her, they are just "Memories"
She was my attachment to this world, my poems were merely the flowers for my muse
This world was an audience to my insanity, as I was labeled misunderstood
With little friends left to know for many to have I never could
Disgusted with life but unable to cry, its a unchangeable phenomenon
The moon hasn't changed its self since that night I gazed at it
So why have I?
Yet... I hoped my poems, my words would survive this world
My poetry would live on in my place never forgotten
Yet the ashes lay here in my room flying away
There not forgotten...
