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For Narvi and Vali


I am nothing more than one sentence in an old history book
Left rotting on the shelf amdist it's companions
Dusty and forgotten.
My death is the only thing remembered
And what was done with my body after expiration
My brother only remembered
For his unwilling murderous rage.
Our lives lie in the shrouds of mystery
Unknown and forgotten
We are just a dark spot on the shining histories
A blot on the page that can be easily discarded.
But will you remember us?
Not only as sacrificed innocents,
But as two boys
Who played,
And loved,
And lived?
Will you peer into the past
And see us how we were?
Will you remember us and give us honor?
Or will your memory of us
Grow as gray and dusty
As the old history books
molding in the library cellar
And forgotten.

Had to happen sometime...


Image (lovingly) stolen from kc_anathema.