His low moans bounce off the walls of the alley, <br />echoing in the darkness. The rays of the streetlight <br />stray close, but never close enough. <br />Puddles redden as he drains by the minute, <br />and his groans grow more urgent. But the noise continues, <br />loud and uncaring, happily oblivious to his need. <br />Lively lights chase each other, and machines trill their tunes, <br />drowning out his painful heaving. People of the street <br />stray close, but never close enough. <br />Silver shines in his stomach, <br />not the sixpence from Christmas. <br />Beyond the stream of traffic, lies the sea. <br />This side of the world, though, lies he. <br />Lids lower and the sea sweeps him up. <br />It flashes the most brilliant colours, as <br />Lively light chase each other, and his ears fill <br />with the roar of the sea, and the machines trilling their tunes. <br />He’s crying, trying. <br />Lying dying.<br /><br />Dan Brown<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lying-dying/
