What is more precious than gold?
What lies closer to man’s heart?
When all is done and told,
His death was not kept at bay.

Where does a man’s soul lay
When his life is ripped apart,
When his bones begin their decay?
When all is dead and cold,

How were those last moments?
Did anyone stop to cry
As his life passed in increments?
His death time closer grew.

What color was his hue
When his last moments passed him by?
Did he ever see his truth
As his eyes gave their subtle hints

Of a life suffocated in regret,
Never saying what was needed?
His choice was never correct,
Placing good behind gold that glistened.

Oh, that he could have listened,
The warnings he could have heeded.
Instead increasing his distance,
Between those people he never met.

Selfishly he did not trust
Anyone that gave him part
Of themselves without disgust,
And what’s left amid his shattered bones

Those remnants of a life alone,
Lies the bitter and broken heart,
Having never chosen to atone,
Instead giving into only lust.


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