Where do I begin?
Not my story.
The start of what makes me...
A fire burning.
A light shining
Habbits are learned.
Is my soul slowly gained?
Would time matter to such things?
After my body withers, will anything be left?
A fading light as a memory of me dies.
Such a slow death would freighten most.
To be lost, empty, alone.....
But, the forgotten do not fall.
They just fade Unseen
By: Jason Roll