I Was Always A Lonely Person When

My Aim Is To Put Down On Paper What I See And What I Feel In The Best And Simplest Way.

So This Was How You Died, In Whispers That You Did Not Hear.

Not The Why But The What.

You Write A Book Like That You're Fond Of Over The Years, Then You See That Happen To It, It's Like Pissing In Your Father's Beer.

Why Do Old Men Wake So Early? Is It To Have One Longer Day?