The echoing rhythms of agonizing pulses strike the nerves of a dying soul,
Every breath moves slower waiting,
while the painful minor melody trickles into the life of
a frail young child.
The fingers of a gentle thud have laid upon an ivory pound,
Shocking the heart with a jolt to his chest,
as electric uncertainty decides the fate of a sudden
A familiar crowd parades in madness,
weeping religiously in the night,
Eagerly awaiting a verdict.