In the end, I think we’re all just myths;
Tales our descendants cannot fathom into truths.

This tea tastes sweet on my tongue,
And in this particular moment,
My back aches from writing in a bad position.

But my now is now my past,
And your past is someone’s future,
And I am sure that if you turned
And looked back on yourself
You would see the future me
Staring up at you.