A year passed
The grief remains
Unsaid
We’re all left with our thoughts
Younger sibling left behind
With ticking clock
Losing time
As if nothing could stop it
And even if time could stop for the exact amount of grief to be
The world will still change
Because he is no longer here
Because something happened
Because of weeping and gnashing of teeth.
The one with glasses will help
But if he doesn’t, he’ll leave caraway alone
And only eat orange candy.
A gun above the head of the employee of the month,
Blood on the streets in the news
Time slipping away
On the clock above the head.
Bodies on the pathway.
People who lived even though they shouldn’t
People who died who wanted to live
The madness of a group, anarchy.
Life’s alright
Just forget about grief and difficulty is no more
There’s no need to pick at old scabs
Disinfect what is dead.
Everything will rebuild itself
One year is enough
To forget.
One hour is still too long.
No one hears the wails of younger sibling
Who only cried twice in their life.
Spiders have hidden his photos.
A year shall suffice.
A year will be enough.
Only to pretend.
Only live.
Not to look at the pain.
Not to look at the cut finger
Not to look at the blood clogging the drain.
To be a good human
And not bother anyone.
People have fallen many times
Younger sibling wasn’t the first
And that’s a pleasant thought.
Isolation is a silent killer.
It’s lovely in the evening time
Everything is fading away
And the hope persists
Not looking at the broken clock above the head.
The projectile in the air.
What if it was them and not her?
What if their friend didn’t wear glasses?
What if someone noticed?
No one listens.
No one cares about anyone, even their own health.
Seven years as a debt repayment.
Poverty as a time reservoir.
Time is money
In sad economy.
Silenced people
By government that knows every move.
Thus, no one revolts.
Clock-seeing children kidnapped.
There’s no need for pension
If no weak person lives past the age of twelve and everyone dies before seventy.
Coffee doesn’t taste as good
As when one knows it may be the last.
It might hurt the heart
But the time on earth is pre-determined.
The one in glasses stays the night
Reads books until younger friend-sibling
Falls asleep.
Sneaks out in the light of dawn.
It’s lovely to dream
If only the dreams could last forever…
He would’ve lived and no one would despair
Therefore younger sibling wanted to sleep through the rest of their life.
As always, they needed to wake up.
They left Sunday blues and dreams
and hebetude in a corked bottle
As if it was a message to be read.
They found nepenthe in writing orphic texts.
The hubris flowing in their pen as ink
And no one listening ever
No one reading.
Mind lost
After thousands of iteration of one thought
As it loses
Its meaning fully.
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