I CONFESS

I Confess that I think of your hands all those years ago majestically altering the movement of a pen as you composed influential passionate words of poetry.

I Confess that your utterances created an imagination of reflections into our hearts.

I Confess that as I sit by so wretched from a virtual world,  witnessing you struggle to breathe the last precious gasps of life. I feel saddened and fractiousness.

 I Confess with agonizing profound fervor that the world will soon lose another gifted soul to this disgusting virus.

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