Memory of Pain

If living were my legend,

I'd make it forgotten.

Like a ghost town disappeared,

Or a sunflower meadow burned down.

I would lie to my guests,

And tell them its all gone to dust.

Make them feel the pain,

Of something that never really lived.

I hope they would cry, in sorrow or madness,

Feeling the irony of the void, which my sweet heart embraces,

But legends are stories,

Unaware of the validity or truth in their lines,

And a legend is just how it sounds, it is lost,

Forgotten like the leaves of the tree of my soul.