I died countless deaths before leaving the weary self behind;

Fragments died repeatedly when the dreams died,
Dreams that the world knew,
and dreams that only the heart knew;

Tad bit of me died with falling apart of loved ones,
some left their bodies,
some left irreparable scars,
and yet some other moved a world apart,
As is often said “we are just a call away” when indeed we never are,

Few bits died at my failures,
Failures scattered across the lifetime,
Few of them concrete and a few within all the lines
A few that made all the difference and a few guised as rewards;

Some promises unkept,
some forgotten lives,
and a yearning for another life.