we forget in time
just what it was we were fighting for,
like age and old ways
it's hard to forget until it's too late;
then,
it really doesn't matter anymore.
i'm not the dying breed
nor am i special in any way,
but i can only beg for perfection before i die;
and,
before days like these
forget my name.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem