Eulogy

[rowens]

Rustling thoughts inside his head,
like winters leaves that never rest:

winter


He tells why, but all at their request.

Why you say that?



He's watching from a stilted window,
as his world turns shades of grey.


Stilted/shades of grey.


He's standing in his pocket,
himself he's betrayed.


He's standing in his pocket. That could get out somehow.



There's no end to this beginning,
the thought comes too late.
This is his to own,
to them he berates.


Watch out for that kind of thing sometimes.


They never knew him they say,
despite what he said.

That's interestingly said.


They speak into their reflections,
his promises always ended in regret.

You came close till the end.