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The Man Who Can't Be Moved

He sat there still

For all of these years

He has not moved

Nor cried any tears



They say he waits

For a better time

That has no heartbreak,

Pain, nor crime



And so he rests

So silently

Watches the birds

Fly from the tree



He never speaks

He doesn't dare

He knows that no one

Seems to care



He's all alone

That poor, old man

Had his life

Not just began?



He's tied down hard

By invisible chains

While all else moves

He still remains



His cheeks are red

His hair is white

He hasn't tried to

Put up a fight



And in the end

When his eyes close

One boy drops

A single rose



They say that both

Are still there

The sleeping man

With the graying hair



The rose still bright

A crimson red

Even after

The man is dead



It lay there perfect

Untouched, select

No one dared

To object



And now when people

Feel out of place

They look to the rose,

See the man's face.



And for a second,

For a moment, they're free.

They understand him

Completely.



The world isn't perfect-

Neither are we.

What the man waited for was

Destiny.





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