March of The Damned

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Our stranger walks
Lowered head, shoulders stooped
Eyes fixed on no point but down
Tasting a bitterness we cannot know
Carrying a load we cannot bear
Walking a path we cannot trace
He walks on

What of his life, of his dreams?
Where now is his glorious future?
His relentless march onwards to apathy
Losing as he goes.

Our stranger walks
Empty head, shoulders free
Eyes fixed on no point at all
Tasting an emptiness we cannot know
Released of a life he couldn't bear
Walking to vanish without a trace.

He walks on.