Friends of our past

the day that we walk alone
the day that we count our own
When we can see the words we speak
as the number of flowers on a snow capped peak.

the day we wish not to be known
the day we wish to be all alone
then the day comes where we hope for life
the reasons sparing, the world so nice.

but then we see that the world is gone
all we have is ghosts forlorn
finding solace in the sound
a piece of paper or a round.

forever judged by our past
rebel, outcast.

now i know when it speaks
"Follow me now before you weep
to the ends of the world
that is so bleak
follow me for I know
your heart ,your sanity and your sorrow."

remind me not to reminisce again
even though my past is not a sin.
lest we be reminded of our soul
leave be now and for silence is gold.

nothing is when nothing shall.