Sorrow and sorrow
were the bones of him
and where he begins again
and of tomorrow
is still beyond him
and the best of him
agony and agony
beats against his skin
and takes his breath again
moves inside his bones
and with insidious tones
makes him a mockery
and now the war is lost
and like a silent ghost
he walks into shadows
like a faded photograph
a wooded path
strewn with glass and arrows
and every step he takes
makes his dead heart ache
nothing left to fear
or to still hold dear
all is gone
if he could make a choice
and only hear your voice
he would be free
but he is bound by skin
and things within
and it kills him


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