Something Died

 Something died
and nobody cared,
a shroud of flies gathered
and nothing washed the body.

It lay silently

 without sweet incense

rising like a prayer;

or flowers weeping tender

petals,

silently turning

into cries of desperation
it was an end of something

an era . . . or a dream . .
and hope flew away on
wings of steel blades . ..
each stroke a slash
on a stilling heart;

dark red were the skies

where

crystal drops

of silent tears 

were

falling, falling

 

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