would you think about me everyday until you finally accept my death?
would you forget about me right after the time of morning passes?
what if i didnt really died, but instead was set up and looked different, i spent time with you; without telling you im not the person you think i am but the person that was supposedly close to you that no longer is living?
what if i by some miracle i survived but at the cost of not only my identity but everyone not believing i am who i say i am.
i would feel betrayed by the supposed people that once cared and loved me so. I would loath them to no end that they probably would speak of me so illy, that they would refuse to speak of me and they do they are quick to retreat from the conversation as if my name be that of taboo.