Forgotten Until Farewell Poem by Lilith Van'Nightinveil

In a world adorned with gilded masks,
Where laughter rings in hollow flasks,
There walks a soul, unseen, unheard,
A silent cry, a muted word.

Through bustling streets and crowded halls,
Where vanity and wealth enthrall,
The lonely wanderer drifts alone,
A life unloved, a heart of stone.

They plead for solace, seek a friend,
But empty echoes never end.
Their pain, a shadow, casts its pall,
A silent scream, ignored by all.

In youth, they shone with beauty's grace,
Admiring glances traced their face.
But time, the thief, with cruel hand,
Stripped away the golden strand.

Now, lines of age and scars of strife,
Etched deeply on the map of life,
Their once bright eyes, now dull and gray,
Reflect a world that's turned away.

The rich one's coins and pretty guise,
Draws friends like moths to blinding lies.
Yet when the wealth begins to fade,
These fair-weather friends evade.

In lavish parties, grand and bright,
They danced away the endless night.
But when the music ceased to play,
The crowd turned backs and walked away.

No more the star of fleeting fame,
No longer part of life's grand game.
Their cries for help, their silent plea,
Lost in the void, no one to see.

They wander through the lonely streets,
Where shadows hide and silence greets.
In every face, a stranger's stare,
No comfort found, no one to care.

They scream into the empty night,
A heart that yearns for one small light.
But darkness holds its cruel grip,
No hand to hold, no lip to lip.

The days turn into months and years,
A river flowing, full of tears.
Their once bright spark, now fading fast,
A life unlived, a shadow cast.

Then comes the day, as all days do,
When life's brief light is bid adieu.
They breathe their last in silent room,
A lonely end, a quiet tomb.

But death, the silent revealer of truth,
Unveils the falsehoods of their youth.
In passing, they become a name,
A tragic tale of fleeting fame.

Now mourners gather, voices raise,
In somber hymns and solemn praise.
They speak of love and endless care,
Of memories and moments shared.

The cries of grief, the wails of loss,
A sea of tears, a heavy cross.
But where were these when they had called?
When silent, suffering, they had stalled?

The irony, a bitter pill,
That love emerges when all is still.
In life, their pleas were met with naught,
In death, their sorrow dearly bought.

So here they lie, in earth's embrace,
A peaceful smile upon their face.
For in the end, they've found their rest,
In death, a love that stands the test.

But let this tale a warning be,
Of vanity and false decree.
Seek not the shallow, fleeting fame,
But love that lights the darkest flame.

For when the final breath is drawn,
And earthly ties are all but gone,
It's not the wealth or beauty fair,
But genuine love that lingers there.

In life, be kind, be true, be real,
For hearts can break and wounds can heal.
Do not wait for death's cold hand,
To show the love that life demands.

Thus, in this world of gilded masks,
Where laughter rings in hollow flasks,
Remember those who cry in vain,
And ease their silent, haunting pain.

For in the end, what matters most,
Is not the grandeur of a ghost,
But love that's shared in life's brief light,
A beacon in the darkest night.