Time to leave

He was looking for a place,
place, where to die.
Quite strange, I know,
but no other place left,
no other, where to go.

Listening to the rustle,
of the darkened dry sand
as he was pulling his rope,
he went to return the minutes lent,
slowly, down the slope.

Stars were sparkling,
showing their great grief.
They knew he was a good man,
not a murderer, not a thief.
But there was no other choice.

Sometimes, you feel different,
like if you shouldn't be here.
As you don't belong
among the lies
and shallow beer.

This man wasn't proud,
he didn't hurt,
or shout aloud,
his fault was deep inside.

Telling he departs,
'cause he's too good
for this world,
it would be rude...
but asking me,
I give you a word
that it is true.

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