When the ink of my pens run dry,
When my stories reach their end,
When I lose all my vocabularies,
When I start to run out of words,
When the writer in me has left;
In my absence, the stories and poems
I’ve written in the past,
They’ll speak on my behalf.
They’ll retell old stories and memories
— even the emotions I’ve long forgotten.
They’ll remind me of my hurts,
Joys, sorrows, and victories.
They’ll continue to live on.
Words — they won’t die.
Even when I could only live a lifetime,
My words will live beyond that;
They’ll always stay and won’t depart. 📝