Even the brightest stars,
The ones people write poetry about,
The ones that fascinate all of human life,
Burn out until no trace is left,
And those on Earth who waited for it to come around every decade,
Get bored of seeing the same dying light.
It gets forgotten,
Forgotten in time and space.

Tiny flower all alone, grows before an unmarked stone. Fallen soldier with no name, because of this no one came.

Tiny flower how you’ve grown, spread before this unmarked stone. Fallen pedals in lieu of tears, each one denotes a passing year.

Tiny flowers surround this stone, the only spot that you have grown. People stop to ponder why, overwhelmed by grief they begin to cry.

Tiny flower thanks to you, this stone is marked with the sight of you. Fallen soldier rest in peace, for your forgotten years have finally ceased.

Memory loss;
I know you're serious,
but every time you try to speak to me
I'm dropping words and sounds
like an imaginary hot potato,
thrown to me by a very rude child
who thinks making me lunge a thought
away from me counts as being safe.

I know you said something,
sounded like white noise,
sounded like the conversation
I think we're having right now,
I'm behind five sentences,
or maybe five minutes,
something there sounds about right.

Keep speaking, I can only hope to catch up,
this constant amnesia is aching
and my head is in a fog,
but I know you're serious
and you said something, something...
memory loss.

I want to learn to forget things the way they have forgotten me.
It seems a fairer way to live....

The stars are forgotten
Because of our ignorance and 'progression'
We have lost the will to look up