They were all gone. The light was calm.The timepiece bashed with hate.‘T was too early. Or… so late?Nails bleeding in the palm.Few stars had jostled with a nudgeto hear their shadows spread on mould.It was so hush. So cold.Nails ready to adjudgea sorrow, a sigh. Thorns whisking by.The bells of rustling rumors ring.Tears felt to the ground and spring.Nails all alone detach from sky,and stars shall sing: