I don’t think it,
I know it.

The wind weeps
after it caresses you
and is forced by at the speed of breeze.

The air you breath
longs to be
used for speech-

just for the opportunity
to convey your meaning
in an utterance
formed from thee.

The sun takes pride
in the light it provides,
just so it can show you off
to all the passer-byes.

So how could you ask me what I think,
when I could only portray your value
with my toxic speak?

For when you disappear
from the world
it becomes but just a word;

*‘Meaningless’