Tongues Fall Quiet

You do not make an eye contact with a thing,

A corpse.

Even though dead men don’t tell tales.

By a mad miracle,

Poverty assaults your ego,

And your heart and guts hung hooked.

Night comes black,

And breath deserts you,

Lifeless, a corpse, just a thing!

Tongues fall quiet,

When dead men finally meet.

But anyway, dead men don’t tell tales, they are all just the same.