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The Silent Bench

The eyes of tearful past

Gaze upward, past small faces

 

I watch him

He begins to rise himself

Off the coldhearted bench

Gazing through the distance

 

Thoughts reoccur in his fading mind

He lays back down

 

Roaming, helpless and scarred

He lost himself in fear, and that alone

 

Links of steal and agony

They fall beneath earth's eye

 

What's left alone to pity

Has nothing, than to die

 

Tears of saddened hearts,

They are, but a target

 

The world, they are the darts

Piercing happiness, in the eye

 

He grazes, in weathered grass

Throughout a darkened tranceless state

 

Left to gather thoughts

Expected sadness, on the contrary

 

He is dead to the world

What are you

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c
Written by
catie-blurr
Dutch
Published
Jun 21, 2010
Lines·Words
24·116
Permission

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