As I sit here to pen this poem, I started to realize that these words appearing upon the page are not my own, and now maybe you are reading these thoughts up off this page, these thoughts that were chosen to be left behind, so that you would find them and contemplate this verse with time. Who is the messenger and who is the receiver? That is the question that I ask, that this life can never answer? If you figure this out please do not write back, for I am afraid if you do, I will not exist and neither will you. Your pal.
– Josh Fleming