Like A Beautifully Forgotten Memory.
Mirrors of sculpture beautifully above,
Who could really see,
What I could have become,
Now the forest and winds speak to me,
My grave underneath were that man leave me be,
I could have been someone,
My mother would have been proud,
But unlike this mere fantasy,
It cant be spoken outloud,
Who could really see,
What I could have become,
Now the forest and winds speak to me,
My grave underneath were that man leave me be,
I could have been someone,
My mother would have been proud,
But unlike this mere fantasy,
It cant be spoken outloud,