Tuesday, July 3, 2012


He was standing midst the crowd
Wearing dull, black shroud

Something was terribly wrong,
staring him a million eyes
cold and sad he was strong,
holding In heart, a million cries

And he was silent, standing still
Each moment, was killing his will

Something inside, wasn't right
and he didn't wish
approaching fast, a black night
they begged, but he didn't wish

Laughter, Smile, things of past
Black shadows, miles vast

Something was watching him
he turned back and gave a stare
a distant being, so cold so grim
he turned back and saw a hare

And Each moment became still
so still, so very still
like the distant grey hill

He, too was as still as dead
The will to live, was long dead
Standing was a figure instead
With eyes, a little red...