look upon the lonely dead in their world of stone each one of them is so well read but all of them alone our path with cuts and weary worn meanders toward the sun through battled lives gracefully torn pity spilled becomes undone as if we marched toward a prize each step upon the late still anticipating with surprise our destination’s fate and as we gape upon the void having reached the close of days we cannot grasp the now destroyed through complacency malaise © HeyHey 2020
close of days
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