I don't know who you are (or were, i suppose) but someone, somewhere  remembers you. perhaps they are a lover, and you got lost at sea.  or they are sinking,  with out you as their life preserver (ironic, isn't it) or maybe it was guilt that made them leave these already wilting flowers for you.  do you know why they left them? did you deserve those flowers do you even know who left them for you?  did you part on bad terms? do you know how long until these flowers stop coming? until the guilt fades, and your memory passes.  how long until they move on? you'll never be able to move on, will you? you'll be stuck here forever, watching those you used to walk amongst.  how does that feel? do you think of how many before you have gotten towers, monuments, holidays in their honor, and all you have is a stone that's already withering away? does that make you angry? how many people have come to weep at your grave?  how many simply stared? last question: did you go gentle into that good night?  or did you rage, rage against the dying of the light.