I wrote a letter to the living dead,
Long Before I was gone.
I Opted to mail it to you instead,
For fear I might have been wrong.
I wanted to speak of memories past,
All to acquire point of view.
And though the time has since elapsed,
I still but think of you.
I recall with a faint uncertainty,
Don`t mistake my words so few.
In your chaotic, inebriety,
How easily you mimicked the new.
Your truth lay dormant in antiquity,
As I traveled down memory lane.
To rediscover the beauty in conspicuity,
Not these eyes, this minds disdain.
