Remember Me

Remember me?
I'm the one who used to shout,
to speak, to write, and to unshroud
things that are, or might have been,
who used to laugh and cry out loud,
for calm-slayers are the things he's seen.
Remember me?
The very voices in my head
that haunted me and made me write—
the ones I used to push and curse—
came uninvited day and night.
I only knew I want them when,
of course, they finally heard my calls
for freedom—no for loneliness.
Remember me. Remember me.
As the one—The stupid one—who didn't know,
when overloaded by identities,
which to cherish, which to keep, and which to throw,
who wishes now he's kept the one that matters
and took the risk of being crushed below.
Remember me
As a sailor or a fisher with an ax
out of anger, or despair, or maybe boredom,
not seeing what he has but what he lacks,
starts making holes, wondering which one kills his ship,
and only when he's overwhelmed with the leaks,
would he remember he's not half as good a swimmer
as needed to outlive his deed and not to sink.
Remember me
when the last echo of my dying scream
would fade away. Remember me
when all that's left of me would be my ink.

@Hazem91