ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: IT REMAINS (ft. souls)
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"To all those words that came out of souls which are no more."
Humans are mortal
But these words that they spill,
Are forever to remain stilled.
Some in the shadows of darkness,
Others in the lacuna of happiness.
Some come out of chapped lips that are now dead,
Although the words still remain there.
Some go uttering absonant words and sounds,
Few walk away conveying plush phrases.
But my question is ~
What happens to the letters they spill?
Either are they hastily eluded
or they are unheard.
A bit might as well be reputed,
Be later forever blurred.
They go hiding noiseless,
Without being heard
And endure bodiless,
With being deferred.
Why do people ignore them?
Wre they so unworthy?
That it feels easy,
To score it away in a single attempt.
One stops it's breath under the graveyard
But the last spoken words are still felt,
Into the depths of the kirkyard.
All don't travel long distances,
It is under the bed or in the attic
of the houses.
They are locked in rooms which echoes of cacophonous music,
Under the dark light which seems so toxic.
But really, they are unheard,
Maybe not forever
But till then
It remains there without any endeavour.