dying is certain there is no escape your whole life moves unto it this rigmarole, the breathing seconds count your remainders as the veiled robber beholds to snatch away your precious.
the accompanying days remain cold landscape barren white, frosty in the middle a forlorn sight still towering high with youth arms stretched afar and aplenty the cries piercing the icy air and leaves roll down trepidatiously.
many days pass by, many seasons fleet none visit, no bird whistles along horizon is white and long no sights remain unseen the chord is stuck at G sharp the pain numbs the soul.
alone he composed poetry there was no one to read it out to.
alone he composed music there was no one to sing it to.
alone he died there was no one to mourn.