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Literature Text
He walks the corners beyond this street,
Faded shadows bow to his feet.
Appearing humble in his needs,
He counts the rewards of his deeds.
A simple gesture, the lights fade blue,
The sky becomes clean, untainted, anew.
The silhouettes of these homes shape his sky,
Returning a wistful memory to an old passerby.
He enters a hole within a distant wall.
With distant, memories and dreams that fall.
The edges of his life fade like the words on his page,
Silent and dying but never full of rage.
Sleep is sacred, sleep is bliss,
There is never a moment he won't miss.
Of the growing smiles of his past,
Like a garden harvest dieing fast.
Once he awakes to see he is not there,
He will finally give in, that no one did care.
This man will mourn nothing, there is no loss ,
Already he had naught, so what would be tossed?
Sleep is sacred, sleep is bliss
There is never a moment we won't miss.
Of his truthful words that were never hurried.
Like a child just born, to early buried.