Lost in the mansion…by G. Mramor


There is a little boy of ten screaming and wailing at the doors of death, slamming his little hands on the door, he will never grow up, there is a young man of 20 raging and seething, fire in his hands he is trying to burn down the halls of death, he will never live to love nor learn to live, there is a man of 30 hating and dying, forsaking the one who died in the room of death, he will always seek death in all things, there is a man of 40 silent and stone, trying still to understand what is death, and there is an old man of 50 scared of light and touch, waiting in hands there is the end but first a prayer to never live again, and through the whole mansion of death there goes a cry father in the night, unanswered.

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