My face has been forgotten,
My tears have dried on my skin,
My legacy will fail to hold me,
When my life is about to end.
My poems will burn with my ashes,
Like everyone else's thoughts,
No one will remember them,
Not while night turns to dawn.
My words won't be remembered,
My thoughts never exposed,
Because I will never share them,
Never will try to impose,
That my thoughts mean something,
My opinions have value,
My poems have touched minds,
And maybe have some truth.
My memories will fade,
Along with her face,
I wanted to tell her,
But was scared and afraid.
What will I be remembered for?