Exuded from him.
O shame that he bring,
will make tears brim,
on the eve of your eyes.
Till then you remember him,
That he is the reason you're dying,
Slowly your heart held dim,
Wither, wilting, you're dying.
The time and memories lavish on him,
Though it all is a mere imagination,
That him is the very attention,
Wasted on him, caring.
