There is nothing worse Than hearing the faint sobs of an old man. Who has lived his entire life, Who knows so much pain, so many places so many people. There is nothing worse Than seeing the snot running Down his face and him attempting to Wipe it on his sweater While telling his family That he will soon be gone.
There is nothing worse than Only being able to notice a political downfall Through the cries of an old man, Announcing his banishment. But there may be one thing, It may be possible the cries of his children And his wife Are even louder and Angrier than his. It is possible the sadness Spreads through veins quicker than Antibiotics. It is possible his blood is their blood And now they will be millions of worlds Apart.
And it is definite that death is upon him, That telephones do not exist anymore, That a letter does nothing but **** a tree. That family is dead. It is definite that he will not be able to survive in a place Where gunshots sound the streets and there is no love. No love at all. Because with no love, It is possible there is no life.