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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1921101
make of it what you will, it's only my thoughts.
Though I'm doomed, and damned to die,
In the dark and dreary mist,
And I'll only leave a passing mark,
And never will be missed,

Never loved,
Never lost,
Never, too often kissed.



I know that someday,
Farther on,
Someone will find this mark,
And think of more than just,
Passing on their way,
Through the dark and dreary missed,
And so drag this solemn song,
Always, with them,
Along,

That I may not be mist.
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