Piece of Nothing

poem about death
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The world belongs to the living…

Now you are far away from home,
the home you never had,
and as your presence turns to stone,
I’ll never call you “dad”.

Now you are the wind, the sky,
and everything that flies so high,
you are the song of birds, I see…

You are free.
You are no longer in a prison,
or in a cell of alcoholic dread,
you’re in the world without a season,
you’ll no longer see suffering and death.

Now you are gone and far away,
don’t look back, you cannot stay.



photograph by Zugr


Image Curve’s Manifeso

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1 Response

  1. Mitroffsky says:

    Brings tears… touching and tough just like reality.

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