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Jan 2011
They sit, dead at the table, one slumped over after the other
The man in the suit, I have not seen him before
Must he have seen me from the shadows under the door
I was quiet, I'm certainly sure
In terms of speaking, he only uttered one word responses
I did not mind, then he hung himself in my closet
Shattered, broken, I was
But I had to laugh
The entire scene was daft
Or at least it was to me
The old man's shotgun sits under the roof of my mouth
My life is filled with such doubt
I don't believe in another day
Since everyone has left and passed away
Now is the time, then was the time
Of holding hands and embrace
I just wish I had never seen your broken face
Simon Fletcher
Written by
Simon Fletcher
564
 
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