the leaves fell and they mean nothing
like the shells he kept on his room- they mean nothing
those days numb with the familiar
hands clenched without regrets, or so he said
those are but tombs without names
skeletons waiting for a crow visit
candles swaying with the wind for salvation
the ghost of yesterday still aching, hopeful for a better tomorrow
the dagger that made a home on his heart
the tears, smiles,  and the memories stuck in between
they're nothing, like the leaves
lifeless and crumpled beneath his feet-
all for nothing, he said, she said.