#1
Tugging clothes and pulling hair,
He sits and and stares without a care,
The people who pass him by.
He starts to cry,
Without reason why.

The people stop,
The people stare.
They talk out loud without a care,
"Look the fool in the eyes,
Watch now as he cries".

It's the same,
And the same,
Everyday he sits and cries.
In front of many,
To their surprise.

The people wonder,
"How" and "Why" he cries.
Too many questions,
Too many lies.

Only he has the answer,
To why he cries and cries,
But it hurts him too much to say.
So he cries and cries,
For his uncomming demise.

People sit and people talk,
After soon they up and walk.
Questions asked,
No answers given,
Upset by how far they've driven.

The suns gone in,
The rain begins,
But still he sits and stares.
Tears rolling from his eyes,
Down his cheek and away from the skies.

The people realise he's alone,
Everyday sitting on that stone,
None to share it but him alone.
He cries and cries because he's,
Alone.

Then one day,
One bright summers day,
There was no one alone,
There was just the stone.
The young man was in his home.

Not asleep,
Though he's in bed.
Not awake,
Yes he was,
Dead.

The doors were locked,
The windows sealed,
So no one could have spied.
Somebodies love he was deprived,
His uncomming demise had arrived.