Born of two; raised by four. I guess I took it all for granted, and only three remain. And even though youre wounded, I know that youre still here. And I dont blame you, you just cant face the change, We spend our golden years as living ghosts. Caught in a constant state of purgatory. We are only burdened by our memories until the day that they cease to exist and we follow shortly after. Although I wonder if at any time, our minds fell upon the same plane. Im sure its true, I just wish I had a chance to go back and appreciate it. But well always have the winter, and the snow that got trapped behind the glass. You may be only a shell of the man you used to be, but I love you just the same and I will until the day youre gone. I just never know if Im communicating with you or the disease. And even though I curse the idea of an afterlife, I still hope youre taken care of. You deserve to be in peace. Please dont forget my face. I wont forget to remember you.
Posted on: Wed, 12 Nov 2014 20:01:13 +0000
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