Nothing

Nothing

As it is I am left with a coin or less
It may seem that I am a personality little or less
People say I did try my best of what I lack
For some dead weight to shrug off,
It'd be a great delight at the very least
But the more I waited in eons and some seconds
The wind tasted like graphite, a tree's cold bloom, dry asphalt
like whenever I was with people I loved and feed
I'd be happy and existential and say things
I'd be confused with if they understood or
I'd understand that they're confused
The last syllable will fall off with the blank spaces
With some hope of being remembered

***

Been reading - rereading - few books, I liked it.I missed reading. How it felt to be absorbed into chapters of worlds I don't even imagined of conquering or lives which I dread of experiencing. I am but just an observer, believing every word the author wrote down with the limited authority to swivel in joy and shed some silence in going through some spaces, symbols and insights.