I’d opened my eyes for the very first time
and knew not of that which I could see.
I had not an idea of who I was,
nor of all the people that stared
back at me.
I entered a world I thought would be kind,
and yet I realized that dream was a lie.
Nothing but chaos, and suffering.
A year ago, I’d finally heard the last dove sing.
And yet I am still alive.
Though, years have passed since my death,
and yet I wonder, will I be remembered?
How can I rest, rest if I
am forgotten?
I won’t be, not by you.
I may still be alive,
yet my death had already happened
once upon a time…
In the future, or the past.
It does not matter since it will
never last.
And as this odd poem may not
make much sense, or at all,
I must say that it is because
my mind is cluttered, emotions flustered,
my friends are all dead,
and now I am going to straight to bed.
Hopefully when I wake up,
this will all have been a dream.
One that may not make much sense,
nor implement such sensical ideologies,
or late night pleasantries.
Perhaps when I awake,
my sanity will no longer
be at stake,
and then I may wake.
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