The Man Who Can't Be Moved

September 10, 2012
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


The world isn't perfect-

Neither are we.

What the man waited for was


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