Nothing

I look back at my life.

All the letters I have written,
all the moments captured
on this little square piece
of paper.
This thing that holds every sound,
every cry, every beating
withheld.

Selfish I seem
as the subject falls on I.
This title of punishement
that was earned at birth.

Why wasnt I allowed
to live such happiness.
So many lives born
into wealth, and fame...
why me?

One chance,
destroyed; fargone.

~

We wander through passages
with the tools we
are given.

Hoping one day
this will have been the right choice.
IF we fail,
we are default to our actions...
may we drown in the blood
of our shame.

In the end,
what was it really for?

This cycle that continues
through decades, centuries of what?
.........Learning.........
.....Losing...........
........Learning....
....teaching.....
.......Learning.
...writing..
Learning
.......and being forgotten.

One day,
this will all be worth nothing
in the cycle...
just a letter of the alphabet
typed on one piece of paper
to one day be useless
because it is out
of times........
...and left...
..will be..
nothing.
......
.....
...
..




© 2007 Wind Whisper (All rights reserved)