I watch it all pass by.
It seems to be flying now.
My life,
the lives of the ones I love.
I see us,
As if leaves on a tree,
Summer turns to fall,
And we all fall down.
Only as the next spring comes,
The tree is repopulated with our blossoms.
I can only hope,
That I live long enough,
To help supply my blossoms.
Sadly that's all i can see as a purpose.
To bring life into the world of the dead.
So I sit here as a withering flower.
Watching,
Wilting,
Waiting for my time to come.
I consume little.
I see no point.
I'm trying to make them proud.
Hiding all my faults as I go by.
Only to realize,
what pleases one,
Disgusts another.
So what's the poin?
Only to wait to plant my seed,
Hoping,
Praying,
Wishing some higher power,
Helps me raise it to be something I never was nor will be.
A good person
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