The Loop

Empty house

In a silent street

At a sun-bathed eerie afternoon.

A pen was capped;

A note was written;

Sealed at a table of wild, white roses.

A chair was pulled,

A rope was tied,

And beside the house an oak tree was waiting.

The leaves rustled,

The branches swayed;

The wind whispered a silent goodbye.

Then there’s a loop,

A tightening loop,

Sucking the breath of finality.

Now pours the rain,

To wash away the sin,

The only shelter of souls lost in desperation

 

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