the old wall-clock
ticks.

somewhere in the world
a bedroom light flickers
out.

it is not very late at night,
yet somebody's day is
ending.

they do not shed tears,
nor do they mumble
silent last words, as
they are as empty as
a broken-hearted soldier
who has forgotten how
to live and breathe normally
again.

they do not take in
a longing glance at the
world once more,
nor do they linger in
their thoughts to hear
what their final memories
have to say to them in this precious
moment.

a rope of some kind
is tied to a fixed
bar.

a line that haunted them
for many weeks, screaming
"Do it.".


the old wall-clock
ticks.


then it tocks.


a light flickers
out.