The whispers of the end

Sometimes it feels-
All I do,
Is paint over the scars.
In silence I conceal,
What's real,
And who we are.
So, Here's to the wounds-
That won't heal,
As I steal-
Words that'll be my last.
From the grave of my dreams,
That I've seen-
Behind an ashen'd mask.
Walking through the walls,
Entrapped in my own-
As age burns my all,
With a shadow that time casts.
Gone by morrow,
Lest it all turns to dust-
Yesterdays meld in a heart.
Left then and hollow,
A spark fades and combusts-
Whence years fall apart.
As ash kiss the air-
It's everywhere,
Like a drifting boat-
With no mast.
Standing on the edge,
Of what I see,
Of what is-
Miles ahead and in past.
Reflections of what was,
When I was found,
And how I got lost.
Made and left to rot,
In the glory I did bask.
Leaves become old,
Gone are the memories-
They behold,
All that is left is a bark.
Oblivion of a name,
Nothing will ever remain,
But everything leaves a mark.
As the hour slips away,
A question remains-
I never remembered to ask.
And then I realize,
As I close my eyes-
I was never meant to last.

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