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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1606026
After I am Dead what will be said of me.
They looked at his face
And they did not know
They should reject him
But they did not let him go

They looked in his eyes
They saw a pseudo-mind
They cared not to try
They merely said “No!”

The poor wretch
He is so alone
Destroyed by a planted seed
Seeds of contempt and malice were sewn

They buried his heart and killed his face
They walked on his pseudo-grave
They claimed honor, but were a disgrace
A disgrace that constricted his heart

They squeezed him hard
They forced him to be gone
They pushed him out
But they were wrong

Their ambitions died
They were destroyed by life
They tried not to see his eyes
Eyes that did not cry

They could not hurt him
He would not drop a tear
They could not stop him, no matter how hard they would try
Fore his ambitious heart would not ever die.

Would this be... my legacy? Yes, it shall be.
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