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15 December 1987

YOUNG VICTIM

I sit here and cry,
often like a baby.
Cry, pout and ponder
why my richest treasure, life
is escaping my dear hands.
The evil demon,
now surrounds my fragile body,
inhabiting to make it weak.
Slowly, taking my health
and turning it around to death.
I lay, looking
white and pale.
With no friend's mail,
bringing smiles,
nor friend's voices,
making choices of
happiness or sorrow.
I close my eyes,
tighter and tighter,
Suddenly,
perpetual darkness
is all I can see.
I cannot open my eyes,
for now they're sealed forever shut.
I lay tranquilly,
at the expense of my host's hospitality.
He's won my life,
For I've lost my own.
All is still and quiet,
while a last tear drips
from faces walking
slow paces past
my final resting place.


 

 

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