There was no story,
Neither pleasant, nor gory!
No endearing, crooked smile,
No villainous, sleek style!
Never any shining moments,
No loss, no resentments!
No inheritance or cover,
No wealth to hand over!
Few people at the grave cried,
The scattered flowers soon dried,
Wrapped away, now tidy,
Some dreams and feelings wary,
There, really, never was a story!
P.S. How important do we consider ourselves, our existence? Does it Matter?
Words are few, lovely too.... :) Nice!
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