Born of two; raised by four. I guess I took it all for granted, and only three remain.

And even though you're wounded, I know that you're still here. 

And I don't blame you, you just can't face the change,

We spend our golden years as living ghosts. Caught in a constant state of purgatory.

We are only burdened by our memories until the day that they cease to exist and we follow shortly after. 

Although I wonder if at any time, our minds fell upon the same plane. 

I'm sure it's [bad word]  I just wish I had a chance to go back and appreciate it.

But we'll always have the winter, and the snow that got trapped behind the glass. 

You may be only a shell of the man you used to be, but I love you just the same

and I will until the day you're gone.

I just never know if [bad word] with you or the disease. 

And even though I curse the idea of an afterlife, I still hope you're taken care of. 

You deserve to be in peace. Please don't forget my face.