un-vague-d

there's something about this day...
something about the appointed oblivion.

for this day is the birth of a death...
the death of a loyal friend named [Vague]...
the detachment of his nerves from my senses...
the melting of its opaque fears from my heart.

today he died in silence...
for his screams are even weaker than his whispers.
he cried but no one heard, he pumped but his wells were all dried.

unto this day, he died not that he's tired of living...
but because it was time for his ghosts to be buried.

will his death be a scare? or, shall his tomb be unsealed?
for if someone mourns at his intended grave,
it will be a curse to the royalty of his [end].

may this day mark his martyrdom,
because he died for the sake of faith...
and the fulfillment of [one]'s inner truth.