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Rhianna Thorn Jan 2015
in the life we experience
there is one thing that is certain
which is death.

each thing, everything,
will come to an ultimate demise
and in which they will no longer exist
and everything they achieved
loved and cared for
is eventually forgotten
and no one remembers who sonnet 18 is written about.

because humanity is selfish,
we care for only ourselves and those who are too close
but even then we forget those ones as well.
and we forget who they were
what they were like
what they did
and if the area around their eyes crinkled or not when they smiled


everyone has a choice in this world, to either do great things,
or to forget those who did them.
everyone remembers the president,
but who remembers the name of the school teacher who gave her life for 16 children three years ago?
(not that the president isn't good but yeah)
maggie W Apr 2014
My love,

I love you for being pure, pure like a breath of fresh air in a sizzling day

I love you for being innocent, innocent like a baby just born

I love your grandeur ,stands like a tree yet speaks like silk

I love your wisdom,witted and cheerful.

I love your halo, shining with thy glow.

I can’t imagine the days without you, my muse and my bread

Farewell, Farewell.

— The End —