He was quiet and shy with a hat too big
For a head too wise,
And a heart too sick.
A slow brush across the mantelpiece,
Knocks over broken glass,
Shattered pictures of abandoned youth,
That he knew would never last.
And he completed the ritual,
The monthly routine.
Kissing the bloodless brows,
In basement unseen.
And caught in his gaze,
That pierces your core,
You see but madness there,
And sadness - forevermore.
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