The document appears to be a poem describing a grieving crowd at a funeral. It discusses seeing the pale, tear-stained faces of the crowd who seem lost in oblivion. Their hearts seem empty after wailing over the last breath of the deceased. The poem reflects on whether the man and those grieving him were ready for his passing, and notes that death comes to all, whether bitter or sweet. It describes overhearing the man's last feeble breath, and seeing him now in an everlasting sleep from which no kiss or magic can wake him.
The document appears to be a poem describing a grieving crowd at a funeral. It discusses seeing the pale, tear-stained faces of the crowd who seem lost in oblivion. Their hearts seem empty after wailing over the last breath of the deceased. The poem reflects on whether the man and those grieving him were ready for his passing, and notes that death comes to all, whether bitter or sweet. It describes overhearing the man's last feeble breath, and seeing him now in an everlasting sleep from which no kiss or magic can wake him.
The document appears to be a poem describing a grieving crowd at a funeral. It discusses seeing the pale, tear-stained faces of the crowd who seem lost in oblivion. Their hearts seem empty after wailing over the last breath of the deceased. The poem reflects on whether the man and those grieving him were ready for his passing, and notes that death comes to all, whether bitter or sweet. It describes overhearing the man's last feeble breath, and seeing him now in an everlasting sleep from which no kiss or magic can wake him.
The document appears to be a poem describing a grieving crowd at a funeral. It discusses seeing the pale, tear-stained faces of the crowd who seem lost in oblivion. Their hearts seem empty after wailing over the last breath of the deceased. The poem reflects on whether the man and those grieving him were ready for his passing, and notes that death comes to all, whether bitter or sweet. It describes overhearing the man's last feeble breath, and seeing him now in an everlasting sleep from which no kiss or magic can wake him.
I see faces of grieving crowd Pale and colorless like nightmares Baggy eyes run out of tears Ticking minutes, but frozen life Astray they seem and oblivion I see vacuum inside their hearts Waned by wailing over a mans last breath Was he ready, was they ready!? Bitter or sweet, everyone shall taste it I overheard his last breath, A feeble sigh, maybe of peace which was found Or maybe an attempt of gasping for life I saw quiescent, I saw him sleeping It was an everlasting slumber No kiss nor magical portion shall wake such slumber