So many people to be met and remembered.
So many pleasantries to be exchanged.
None to suspire with in contentment.

Version 1:
And they leave
without a trace.

Version 2:
And they leave
without a trace
taking a part of me
with them.

Why. It hurts. To this second and beyond.

Sometimes, people forget to ask questions like "how are you?" in earnestness, to someone who truly needs it (like me and today).

The crab in oneself
that doth walks sideways
be one's great enemy.
Teach'th a lesson,
does time, be chanced,
as the unlearn'd crab 
act'th again.

I saw a man
with kohl-rimmed eyes
and blood red sockets
staring into everything
before him
(in anger perhaps).

Who is he?