The Smiling Man smiles day after day
Hardly getting any sleep
When night falls in his bed he'll lay
And he then begins to weep

Most days there's no life in his eyes.
No words on his tongue.
No thoughts in his mind.
No breath in his lungs.

He is but a mere carcass
Of what once was
His body is cold and lifeless
Flies swarm around him in an annoying buzz

His limbs are stiff
And so is his face
That smile still on his lips
His body stuck in one place

But when the sun falls
He begins to cry
His sobs echo through the halls
As he questions "Why?"

For despite his smile
He is not happy
Instead he feels vile
And his vision is blurry

The Smiling Man smiles day after day
Perhaps it is for the best
For it must always be this way
Even after his inevitable death