As he falls bleeding to the ground
Nothing escapes him, not even a sound
The gun falls with a thud to the floor
It's played it's part, silent once more
No one around to hear the blast
The boy was alone to the very last
As he falls bleeding to the ground
Nothing escapes him, not even a sound
The gun falls with a thud to the floor
It's played it's part, silent once more
No one around to hear the blast
The boy was alone to the very last
The end comes when we no longer talk with ourselves. It is the end of genuine thinking and the beginning of the final loneliness. The remarkable thing is that the cessation of the inner dialogue marks also the end of our concern with the world around us. It is as if we noted the world and think about it only when we have to report it to ourselves.
Holds you close .. soo heart wrenching twitch.. and rocks you..
hugs
snow
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