A Shadow Lied There
Then the pen asked the paper
Were you not given conscience?
Why were you feeling intoxicated?
Where is your conviction, freedom of speech?
The page, pale and wrinkled, started shivering…
Instead of a nice, colorful poem of love
Words were dropping like blood
All along the white body.
A shadow lied there, cold, long gone
A wrinkled shirt was loosely hanging
On his bare chest,
In an agonizing pain of inability to cover his bruised body.
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