The final fall

I am a leaf, falling,

falling its final fall,

all used up, withered and dead

swirling and writhing,

as the cold winter wind

carries me in its arms

to the death stricken ground

where I shall lay

amidst those; who, once breathed

But not anymore.

Those who once lived

But not anymore.

I drop with no sound

lest, to disturb the dead

and I lay there,

waiting to be fed

by the scavengers,

and to finally disappear

and join those,

who are no more

chained by social dogma

and desires and revenge,

and pain and fear and love,

Those; who, from this world

have already parted,

I shall join the free

the blessed, the departed.




















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