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Exhibitors
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Deceased
Walk the road, that's ever so familiar to you
With the one's that mattered the most,
The one's that taught you to live up high, to stay alive on the unknown, without forever looking over your shoulders, upon every step you take to breathe.
What did it take for you to leave?
Was it of joyfulness or grieve?
I ask myself everyday for who I really am and for how long this temporary life would be, you were the deceased.
Nothing will ever be the same now that you stand up, heads held high, from beneath.
The continuity of these questions are left unanswered.
Can you still feel the warm absence on your shoulders where I used to rest my head?
The count of sleepless nights moments after your dismissal, gradually degrades the person I truly was, the person I wanted to be out of all sincerity.
Your absence, so vast, it murderously brings me to my knees, begging, for you to come back.
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But no, I came to realize that you will never return.
Nonetheless, you're at a place better than the hell we all call home.
Awake with a sleeping mind, I will miss you.
Just like when my limbs are tied, I will need you.
Phone call: Hello?
You there?
I just wanted you to know that I miss you, and things will never be the same again...
You'll be watching over me I'm sure, and don't you worry, I'll make you proud, I promise.
We always love something that death can touch, far too often, way too much.
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