The stars no longer guide—
they blink like dying eyes.
The maps were drawn in sand,
and memory drowned the shore.

You spoke in borrowed voices,
dreams you never owned.
Now silence knows your name—
and claims your flesh and bone.

Truth was shared, but not with you,
locked behind doors you never knew.
Isolation grows as you grow old,
walking the path that you chose alone.

Hope was just a scaffold
built to hang belief.
You learned the final lesson—
Truth arrives like grief.

Ash and thought,
fused in glass,
the past reflects
but never asks.