anonymous

i died
yesterday
but no one cared
placidly the corpse of my past i buried
now is renaissance
a period in my existence
in my history
where all the songs
that i have written
to vanished abuse in the future
may be vague
but as i carefully hold the canvass
and skillfully scrawl the brush
amid the alacrity and mortification
the deem future now has develop
i discarded the cynical share
of my being
the masses are waiting:
in need.
on distress.
in chaos.
they are portraits of broken dreams...