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He still had
A future to his smile
Without hesitation, boldly baring
His heart in his teeth,
Gleaming.
In all those home movies, before.

He mulls
As if the world doesn't deserve
To know exactly what he thinks.
It's beneath him.

Creativity
Does not flow
The words
(So long you had to breathe them in)
- gone. We know.
Sunk
Into the ground like
Abandoned oil.
What a waste of youth
That's left him.
Poor soul.