On a cold floor, like a stone was laid,
Like a flower withered, crumpled and trampled.
No movement of any living or dead.
Not a cloth to cover, might be uncared.
Eyes seek no hope that once charmed,
At a distant light, in the dark they stared.
Helpless hands dont long to be held.
Sealed lips untells the agony of the heart-betrayed.
Like a knife, that might have engraved bruises by a heart-cold.
