A hopeless white dawn emerges from the shadows
Embarrassing the squalor of life by its light,
Time like a sewage flows to the sea
Polluting the memory with a chilled anger,
As the curtains fall before my eyes
And the blinds are turned down,
Remember you used to call me a friend
And I used to be a friend of yours,
Still the thought of those days
Casts away all the pains of a disappointment,
But ahead; the punishment lurks
And behind; the monuments of folly,
Littered and scattered mock the vain
Who pride in the ignorance of hubris,
Winds blow cold in the winter
But no one remembers the howls of winter
In the endless sunlit days of summer,
From the eyes of the dead
We see the plight of the living;
From the depths of our sorrow
We understand the shallowness of expectations;
From the distance of our exclusion
We hear the immediacy of our inclusion,
In Hell; in this life as in this death
And balanced, amid courage and fear
The years behind and ahead are a waste,
Forlorn we must die as we once lived
And no one shall speak of us in death
As we were ignored in life.