Growing older
the only thing I produced
were memories
memories
memories
memories, those
we chose to met
memories,
those we chose to hate
memories,
those we chose to love
memories,
those we chose to impress us
memories,
those we chose to make us cry
memories,
those we chose to neglect us
memories,
those we chose to pay too much
attention.
those
memories of ourselves.
and than when I will be
death, I will be death,
be death, death
my memories
will float and be gone.
not by the wind you stupid,
just gone. You and everyone
my memories.
