There are more on this list than I care to admit.
Some I knew well, others were just passing through,
Some are blood and I remember them well,
Others I shared a little of their pain at the dying end.
A man waiting for death to near,
His body nothing but a shell, still bearing scars of a war raged in hell,
I saw his tears.
A woman gone too young,
Born into this world with a body that was a cage,
Muscles made not to work and bones built to fail.
There are more of you than these two,
But there is not room here for all of you.
Know each of you are in the little lines of the things I write.
Sometimes my head gets full
And I think of all of you.
Wondering why you stay
Is it the etchings you left on my soul?
Or perhaps the dead never fully leave.
They stay in memories and in the quiet keeps.
Blood and spirit walk with me,
They watch as I dig through this darkness
And I swear some days I see them smile,
Encouraging me,
Like they know this dark and twisted way,
Telling me I've found the journey to take.