Newest Light: Lexie, 15 - "Remember"
One day I will be old and my skin gray, my hair white as freshly fallen snow, my voice will croak as if I were a frog. One day my days will be numbered, my skin will be wrinkled and creased, my hair may no longer be, and my voice will just be a haunting song. One day I will cease to exist. A few trinkets and odds and ends no home to permanently reside, snippets of memory will play from time to time, but nothing of real value. And given a few more years I will be nothing. Not a distant memory, no words to dance though your mind, nothing will be left except a ghost of me.