And just like that he received his first flowers on his grave, he was finally loved when his body went cold,
someone finally wept for his leaving.
Is this not what we have forged?
A world where the dead are celebrated more than the living?
A world where empathy and love arrives too late and sorrow is only noble when it serves the dead?
Flowers for the gone, ignorance for the breathing, this is the measure of our world, and I find no meaning in it.