Learning to die

Learning to die

a distinct sort of high

curious be the breeze

when it swallows me

And into the darkness

I soon should fade

when all becomes numb

and everyone forgets my name

what will be of my legacy?

When a poet dies their words live on

you hear them in the wind

echoing sweet melancholic songs

perhaps I’ll their harmony

When the memories fade

what will become of me?

Should I the poets

or become one with the breeze

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