I am some of the details of the good people.
I am another excuse for the bad things that will not resign.
I am some of the popularity of the person that could be.
I am part of the uncertainty of the person who walks past me.
I am some of the old greatness which has made its afterthought possible.
I am another contrast of the total thing that includes me.
I am some of all the strength that will have meant all life always.
I am another shape to the debt all life carries to the unlived.
I am some of the first people still undead.
I am another significant for the unpronounceability of death despite whatever.
I am some of the hope that will make a difference to what is.
I am another iteration of the fallacy of the new still unembarrassed by itself.
I am some of the truth to some people’s better experiences.
I am another sight to gaze the unaccountability of human inaction.
I am some of the world between today and tomorrow.
I am an early stripe of the aftermath to ensue from the horizons lost in the delay for me.
I am some of the unapologetic fascination for things that will allow the world still relived.
I am another reason why, for whatever reason altogether, the world cannot be put together.