Death will come and she will have your eyes -
this death that walks with us
from morning to night, sleepless,
deaf like some old regret
or some stupid vice. And your eyes
will be as empty words,
a smothered cry, a silence.
Such is how you see them each morning
when, alone, you gaze intensely
into the mirror. O sweet hope,
that day when we too will know
that you are life and you are nothing
For each one death has a look
Death will come and she will have your eyes
It will be like putting an end to a vice
like looking into the mirror
and seeing a dead face appear,
like listening to sealed lips.
We will go down silently into the abyss
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