Work Text:
The Forgotten
This year.
This is not a good year.
I fear the cold fire
Inhabiting my heart.
That it will escape
And burn me to ash
From inside out
Where l stand now.
This…..This is
Not a pleasant time.
Though the grass shimmers
And the lily petals dance in the wind
In the place where they first met
My eyes see this beauty,
This joy,
Yet they unsee it in an instant
All the same.
The yawning emptiness drags me down.
The barren scape
Torments my mind.
Not even my favorite things
Can pull me from
The sea,
The mire, the fog.
The ground is wet and cold
So harsh and different.
Far from the warmth,
and comforts of home.
I am lost in the sea.
Because I am forgotten,
And the forgotten are the ones lost.
Whether in the sea, the mire, or the fog,
The forgotten are lost.