Life alone is
a desolate reign,
feel no remorse,
no fear, no pain.
Dark lonely days
and endless nights
with no chance of living,
or more pointless fights.
"My reasons, pure and simple.
A growing need with mouths to feed;
to reap the seeds I'd sown
and a place to call my own"
Like a cynical silhouette
dancing in the night sky.
Waiting.
Watching.
Time to say goodbye.
"HANG HIM!" the mob cries
but is this price not too high?
Hearts and minds
have been closed for so long
and they fear, now, to concede
that they may be wrong.
Sun kissed land
and dry river bed,
will I even be missed
when I'm dead?
No songs by the fireside
for this weary gent,
just a tear shed in pain
to a solemn lament.
Like a cynical silhouette
dancing in the night sky.
Waiting.
Watching.
Time to say goodbye.
Blackness.
Blackness all around.
Deathly silence;
not a sound.
Then a piercing cry
breaking bated breath.
A murderous mob
cheering a cruel heartless death.
Like a cynical silhouette
dancing in the night sky.
The long wait is over
with a tragic goodbye.
*
Written by Darren Scanlon, August 1984
Revised by Darren Scanlon, 3rd April 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.

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Always a pleasure to enjoy your words, Darren 🙂
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Thank you so very much, Poli, my friend.
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