And i'm going to walk
Far, far away
Walk and die alone
Die and decay

They're not going to care about me anyway
But they're going to remember
That one winter day

Yall i found my old notebook with some poems i wrote when i was like 12-13, should i post them here? Perhaps make a collection? Let me know what you think in the comments

It was once clean
Filled with clear rain water
Mirroring your reflection
People not noticing its beauty
Stomped on it

Corrupted it with their shoes
The clear puddle was now brown
And *****
Small children wanted to play with it
But their mothers refused, as it was too filthy

But weren't they the reason the puddle was *****?
The children haven't done anything wrong
Yet they blame someone else
For what they have not done

And the puddle was left alone
Sad
With no one to admire it
And slowly but surely
It evaporated
Only to be replaced over and over again