Waning

What a pale ghost you've become

So faint, so wan, so dun

As you limp to work through the morning mist

With wine stains on your chapped lips

You died that night, didn't you?

That bright young man that we all knew

We are still haunted by your shadow

With the voice so faint and low

Can you look me in the eyes again?

What colour are they now?

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