There's an empty hollow in the corner
where once a rocking chair of wood
some times you come there and you've stood
tears don't come even when they should
It feels like the whole world's quiet, silent
before the grave; feelings only violent
a single harsh breath silenced; there it went
Across the roads, through the woods you used
to walk through and they're all waiting, all confused
everyone knows you were never abused
everyone knows
they're only waiting for the final mourner
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