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Ghost

 

Born of two; raised by four.

I guess I took it all for granted, and only three remain.

Even though you’re wounded, I know that you’re still here.

I don’t blame you, you just can’t 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 they cease to exist, and we follow shortly after.

Although I wonder if at any time, our minds fell upon the same plane.

I know they did, I just wish I had a chance to go back and appreciate it.

But we’ll always have the winter, and the snow that got trapped behind the glass.

You may be only a shell of the man that you used to be, but I love you just the same, and I will until the day you’re gone.

I just never know if I’m communicating with you or the disease.

And even though I curse the idea of an afterlife, I still hope you’re taken care of.

You deserve to be at peace.

Please don’t forget my face.

I won’t forget to remember you.