It was always about dreams. Some had died, some were dying and yet they kept me alive. Feeding me the desire and passion and the need to persevere, they should have died with me. Dreams.
And then you know that some of them have to pass away unknowing, unspoken. Not even whispers. Silence in their deaths. did they deserve this, they could have died earlier. Do they even deserve mourning? I wonder if people can let something so unreal live on for so long.
Its about dreams and even in silence, they should be mourned. They should be mourned for they defined me once and have shaped me, the way I am in a thousand different small ways.
And then you know that some of them have to pass away unknowing, unspoken. Not even whispers. Silence in their deaths. did they deserve this, they could have died earlier. Do they even deserve mourning? I wonder if people can let something so unreal live on for so long.
Its about dreams and even in silence, they should be mourned. They should be mourned for they defined me once and have shaped me, the way I am in a thousand different small ways.
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