hold

sometimes i miss the people who remember old me
who would call my old name
and who would know how i was when i was 17
who would remember how my old town was like

i am scared of losing, not remembering, not knowing them
but they are quietly fading away
i don't see them behind these vividly glowing things

today i started to worry
whether i am going to loose these like i did
miss like i do
then it seems enough reason to hold myself here