The Forgotten Few

I stand on the edge behind you

Listening to your epilogue

You are one of many, not few


Another empty chasm filled

I will be your witness

Though I carry on, I am chilled


Present time passes slowly

And I forget where I am going

Even as the sun rises holy


Flickers of dust float near

Saltwater drips off my cheeks

You are dead but I am still here


The day break brings clarity

Without sympathy, we don’t need it;

We have forgotten prosperity


In favor of survival, we live

Regardless of how they destroy us,

We forget but never forgive


This is how we remain

The broken love of humanity

We are many fighting, not yet slain


Flickers of hope float neat

Blood drips off our cheeks

We are not dead, we are still here


This poem is about: 
My country
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741