The word

The word

There echoes through the streets,

Lonely and deserted,

One word;

The scream of a lonely man,

Berating his life,

Cursing his luck

And dying within.

The word rolls around

And echoes off the walls

Of his now deserted house.

He wonders if it reaches

The ears of the One above;

He wonders why

There is no answer.

He strains his ear

Trying to hear

What silence may be whispering,

As an answer to his question,

“Why?”
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dedicated to Yamraj