Last Of the Kind by Nenad Djukanovic


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Utterly alone
Nor word nor tear to stab the silence
Just a wast emptiness
Full of form yet without the meaning
Alive as shadows are

Iím siting yet I shake
Air i breath screams with soundless agony
Heart drums as if it is made by stuborness
... or by unearthly fear
Alone, shareless yet it beats.

Am i last of my kind?
Is The End written by my death?

...

Can i hope that it is all a dream
A nightmare worthy of my soul
So when sleep luls me to an endless deep
There will still be, someone just like me,
A seed of empathy.