Every morning the essence of tears,
Dressed in a white of pitied tears,
There came the man who collected money for the ropes of the hanged-
Paying for death-
The blessing of murder.
No one knew his face
He could have been a criminal or a priest
(Either act or cause)
Naked only,
To the cold tears, never seen,bitterly tasted.
Who would choose a life lived in death?
No one ever chooses save Fate.
He is an inescapable fact like words scribbled on a tomb.
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