  Bright hopes dashed on bitter sorrows, Life's expectations nothing more than a whisper One that touches the back of the mind, Leaves it wandering, Wondering at that moment, That sound that was just a fragment, A memory, A forgotten dream That you ache for, Reach for, Wanting it back -- And it leaves you Stranded, alone, deaf to it all. It becomes you. You are consumed, Having served no purpose, But to echo the wind. 
