Old Mike still said nothing.
Kimo
Old Mike still said nothing.
When empires ended, echoes in the air,
he sat by the street, smoke and stare—
Old Mike still said nothing.
When promises poured, proud and bright,
people praised a painted light—
Old Mike still said nothing.
When bread broke scarce, bleak and bare,
long lines lingered everywhere—
Old Mike still said nothing.
When night knocked near, names erased,
no one knew, no one faced—
Old Mike still said nothing.
When young men yelled of yielding fate,
building banners, bold and great—
Old Mike still said nothing.
Years passed.
Streets changed. Faces changed. Words changed.
But hunger stayed.
Fear stayed.
Silence stayed.
Old Mike grew old, grey and slow,
hands that trembled, back bent low,
yet the cigarette’s fading glow—
Old Mike still said nothing.
When all was quiet, cold and still,
empty echoes, empty will,
he sat alone upon the hill—
Old Mike still said nothing.
A final breath, a fading sight,
an empty road, no wrong, no right.
Old Mike still said nothing. |
发表于 2026-3-9 22:57:36
