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A young man keeps vigil over his friend's grave, trying to come to term's with his death.
Red flowers lie on the grave,
Stars twinkle in a sky with no moon.
A young man kneels, his head bowed,
Crying softly, unseen by others.
When a friend dies, there is much grief.
Inner pain, confusion, cloud the mind.
Life suddenly seems pointless, useless.
Why did he die, and not me?
All of this, the young man feels,
As he keeps vigil over the grave.
It could be him next time.
How could death pass so close?
Day passes into night, night into day.
Each time, reborn and refreshed.
But unlike this eternal cycle of rebirth,
The life will not be renewed.
The young watcher never sleeps,
His vigil carefully kept.
He kneels there, heedless of pain,
His red eyes never fully dry.
Death is all around us, every day,
But it never hits us quite as much
As when it comes to someone close.
Somehow, we think, it won’t happen to anyone we know.
Daybreak comes, softly, gently.
The young man finally sleeps.
Others come, careful not to wake him,
And carry him home to his bed.