piece of mind 08

The question gone,
as once again the time suffered
for the thorns were cruel,
yet the scent still lingered.

"What for?" The moon asked.
Another broken path;
a rectangular destiny,
a circular hope.

"Kill me again." The old man said.

The night spat into his black eyes.
"You blinded fool, how dare you?"
A black rain, delusional as always.

And the old man finally whistled,
an old tune between a fading frame;
a picture of a smile.

Another broken smile.