The Passage


He was dying, he'd been promising for years.
His angry blue eyes staring vacantly, refusing to close.
Once filled with the hot yellow flames of passion,
now blindly raging at the white sterile wall of death.

Feral eyes trapped by an unknown enemy,
colored by the torrid poison of his soul, now empty.
Fear and pain hidden behind cataract-clouded blue,
depleted by their essence, on the brink of eternity.

Primal eyes storming in a whirlpool of bitter blindness,
lost in an angry sea, pummeled by the stormy winds of fate.
The salty waters of old age extinguishing their blazing glare,
drowning in a briny sea of self-deception and ignorance.

I mourn as his ship of confusion and paranoid truths,
imprisoned by shallow darkness and foggy vision, slowly sinks.
I mourn the smoldering embers of this man as he ceases to exist.
I mourn the passing of a life never lived, I mourn.

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