I know that essence leaves me even as I compose.
Parts of me fade, things I used to know - disposed.
So here in this faded page I leave myself whole.
Well-established thought without an established goal.
I will die soon, and with me the things I've been taught,
leaving behind nothing but a collection of thoughts.
Answers elude my troubled mind; my impending doom.
And inside my being these dark feelings now loom.
The dark musician will play the song of my forgotten history.
The person I was, the person I've become: My lost identity.
Why is Fate, the cruel reaper, so menacing as to show me
when I will fade and how I will be gone from memory?
I will not stand for the powers that be to decide for me.
I will not idly wait for them to have their silent glee.
I will know my own time, and maybe a legacy in violent wake.
I will walk enlightened path and I will have myself to take.
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