Sitting alone, cold, shivering, is a lone forgotten man. Age nips at his heels while death brings the sickle down. The man passes silently, but not without pain, not without suffering.
Day after day we weep for those we see on tv, those whose pain is exposed like some sick reality show. But I guess it really is reality.
But I weep for the silent passer, those we don't know about, silently passing but still in pain.
I weep for those who die silently and alone.