Ephemeral Man

scattered shadows make dress sleeves,

moth wings frail are interweaved,

ashes hold the quiet tongue,

words unspoken, heads low hung,

tiny pins of tortured fire,

break the mind of all desire,

 

once I heard my shadow speak,

but it was rushed, a horrid creak,

 

flower print dresses on dying mothers,

crushed red petals, flight and flutter,

see him darker than the street,

pavement pounding on your feet,

grey sentences spoken in silent rooms,

for some, it seems he comes too soon,

he comes to you with your final breath,

an ephemeral man by the name of Death

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