Was it the water
that made him a martyr
like drops in an ocean of the insane


Was it the fire
his funeral pyre

burning away his wooden frame

Did he remember

the wintry December
whiff of the spring in the morning rain


Invisible borders
The shadow upon her
Sound of the train that never came



He's withered

with her
with her



Was it a notion
a muddled emotion

srand of a thought that's here to stay

Crouched in the corner

trying to warn her
Thoughts of a mind in disarray


Angelic gardens
Sign of the fallen
Glimpse of the world he wished away


He opened his eyes
No sign of surprise

Living the lie another day

He's withered

with her
with her