They sit there,
And reminisce,
Of the meanness of childhood,
With its myriad grievances,
And the night draws on,
Into a silent inkiness,
That seems to absorb,
All the memories,
That made up this one person,
Who lies alone,
Silent,
A still figure,
In a coffin entombed,
As the living continue the wake.
~Rei Shiori
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