I often reflect on,
The day I'll be gone.
Will I be atleast a tear,
To the ones I held dear,
Will I remain a memory
In their pages of history,
One that brings a smile,
As they walk a dreary mile,
Did I make a difference?
That would brighten their day
Or will I be locked in a closet,
To be kept far away.
Will I remain a mystery?
Intriguing enough for a story,
Or just a random cloud,
That passed by one day.
What is it that I yearn,
While I watch myself burn,
A memory, a story, an ire,
A joy, a sorrow or desire.
What would I be?
Oh, what would I be!
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