Forgotten spills all over me.
Alone as one in all,
but that soul left
me to fall.
That soul was a parachutist
meeting a friend on the soft landing.
I just tumbled down the hills
until i caught something.
I was left in the wood,
overgrown and under weathered.
I know the name with crosses and dots
and middle name.  That soul
knows nothing of me anymore.
So strange it is to sit here
and know not what goes on
with that soul every moment.
Left here, under rock and tree,
spilling forgotten gathers around me.


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