Memory

I bleed though the cracks of existence

I am air without lift

A thought without mind

I am a voice without lips

I am the words carried with the wind

The whispers that find your ear

The whimpers that echo through time

The hurtful yells that no one heard

I am the snapshots of life

The freeze frames of death

The photos of history

All of which were never seen

I bleed without blood, air without lift

A thought without mind

A voice without lips

I am but a memory

BY OSCAR TORRES LEON