__The last song__
I thought he died—
Of mourning for the fault in him,
What was his fault when they betray him?
For the living-dead of his soul,
Will they sing him a last song?
He was not afraid of the dark.
The nocturnal entity that lived in him was shy,
Was he shy, for letting his eyes burn?
With the tears of victory,
Will they sing him a last song?
He was not dead—
For giving away all his life to them,
Did they deserve, a worrier’s heart?
Who smiled at his hanging corpse,
Will they sing him a last song?
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