In Remembrance

In remembrance I exist. You see, poetry is a beautiful, delicate art. I remember one poet, he was great, but no one ever payed him any attention... Only I seem to remember him. All he loved, or called friend left him. No one ever stayed. One by one, first his lover, then a friend he cherished for quite some time left, then a mind he helped change for the better of others... Now he's gone too, burnt, and now ash just like his memories of all he loved.

Today, I remember him, and because of him I will master this art, and remind everyone of this soul unjustly forgotten.