The loneliness of the spotlights,
staring back at the sadness,
with a fresh smell of concrete,
and a defeat of forever,
a sad trumpet plays from a pit,
the last walk to the gold that promised eternal life,
flirting with the trumpet in the wind.
the songs of wings flutter in the air,
softly through the stars, begins the fear,
the loss of who
a question remains,
a destain for the most precious,
a party of cranes conversing in silence,
a life that remains unbalanced.
— The End —