those who remember,
hear chimes in supernovas.
the words of the night sky ring endlessly,
until every screaming voice passes into that space
which hundreds forgot.

those who remember,
are born out of parchment and ink,
willed into existence by the angry scribblings
of a writer doomed to sink,
drowned in her own mind.
until, she forgets why she picked up a pen in the first place.

those who remember,
will exist beyond the years they were once confined to.
they will die and die again only to be reborn,
to laugh,
to dance,
to see a sunrise.
until, their candles flicker out,
but they refuse to forget.

Year: 
2018
Forums: 

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