What a horrid thought
To think I may die unknown
Only to become recognized
Beyond the wistful will of death,
Not because I'd miss out
On the fame akin to fluorescent bulbs,
But because I'd be eternalized as
The straws of my words,
Not sun-gleam of my being.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 1:50 PM UTC
