Into Manic Black

He was fading first into lonely gray,
and then into the manic black.
A smile could've saved him from the string,
so fragile,
but nobody looked his way.

He knew that nobody would ever notice he was
.g.o.n.e.
He was lost, eventually forgotten,
and left to dangle in his own sorrow,
.l.e.t.t.i.n.g. g.o.

Stepping off the table, there was a moment of silence,
a silence in which he was remembered.
But it was too late,
too late to smile,
and he let himself fall mercilessly.

Maybe it was my fault, I could've saved him.
I might have smiled and made him happy.
I may have said something to lift him up and dry his unseen tears.
But I did nothing,
and neither did they.

Who are "they"?
Friends, enemies, average people,
who could have smiled his way.
We could have saved his life,
but we stood and watched him fade -
d.i.e.-
into the manic black.

[we could have (didn't) .s.a.v.e. a life]