Forgotten

To those forgotten

and those who forget

I ask:

"What sloppiness

allows

us to allow this

life to slip

into unconsciousness?"

When life is lonely

and empty of all

I ask:

"What confusion

allows

us to allow this

thief inside

to steal our attentions?"

When apathy weeps

grey, heavy tears

I ask:

"What disorder

allows

us to allow this

dirge in to

rob us of intention?"

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