The fraying words collected
On this misbegotten page
Have the semblance of a secret
Though it peters out with age.
What this single precious message
Had to offer in its day
Was a serenade of lasting love,
A parting of the ways.
A testament of vengeance wrought
In blood to mark its worth,
The final thoughts of suicide
A rolling tale of mirth.
This existence, finally answered
Or hope dashed against the rocks,
Whether joyful, torn or angry
It’s a message now that’s lost,
To the bearer of this secret
Would they ever see reply?
Had their message been diverted
Where now does the answer lie?
For the words placed here are blurry
As its people now are gone,
So a little world collapses
With the secret that was borne.