The dying man

The clock is silently ticking

On the remains of my being

As I silently fall on my broken knees

With my tiara of thorns leaving me

Like an old teddy bear left to its painful death

By a passionless child

The trail is silently getting a new life

With empty souls flying nonchalantly on it

The cold and icy sidewalk

Becomes my blood-filled bed

My silence-filled field of sorrow

While the sword that ran through my heart

Falls on the ground

As the ongoing buzzing of the streets

Becomes an strange silence

Almost like a funeral’s church

Or a loveless wedding.

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