Heaven Or

his eyes fluttered,
his pulse weakens,
what little crowd,
those few smirks,
last truths hidden,
of known strangers,
and shadowed lovers,
never knew love,
never knew loss.

he rasped whispers,
sons and daughters,
mirror his face,
and other wives,
his left empty,
his right dangles,
will angels tear,
with death near,
breath a lie,
let truth fly.

last minute ticks,
"make your choice,
one will come,
sly or poised,
it's your call,
freedom or fall."

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