day 363

You stood around like melting icicles that refuse to fall immediately.

Only when I die, will you finally pretend to understand me better.
Because I won't be around to confront you.
Before, my existence is a sore thumb to you.

Take comfort then; the end is near.

My fire is burning out.

May my anonymity when alive and dead bless you with a posthumous trigger that gives you pause to bother understanding. Then, you shall stop melting because of me.