Just like a day lived in a whisper
Passed my life.
In peace and without letting anyone to presume
That I exist.

And to my death
Didn't gather even the flowers
That I was watching
Secretly.

Only bad thoughts
That I kept on hosting,
Mourning, they asked to be buried
With me.

For anything else I didn't have
To leave to this world.
Perhaps only a passing dream:
My face.