THE OLD MAN’S TEARS

Once upon a time I had watched a play somewhere
There was a curled old man in that play
Wearing ragged clothes
Having meaningless glance in his eyes
Being too old, having no energy left, and being deserted,
Left alone, having lived nothing

His tears had neither stopped nor finished
He had so much trouble that hadn’t ever finished
Breathing was his profit, living was his only ambition
Having played the greatest tragedy in the world
On the life stage without curtains
He had passed on, do you have a clue?