Lying Dying Poem by Dan Brown

His low moans bounce off the walls of the alley,
echoing in the darkness. The rays of the streetlight
stray close, but never close enough.
Puddles redden as he drains by the minute,
and his groans grow more urgent. But the noise continues,
loud and uncaring, happily oblivious to his need.
Lively lights chase each other, and machines trill their tunes,
drowning out his painful heaving. People of the street
stray close, but never close enough.
Silver shines in his stomach,
not the sixpence from Christmas.
Beyond the stream of traffic, lies the sea.
This side of the world, though, lies he.
Lids lower and the sea sweeps him up.
It flashes the most brilliant colours, as
Lively light chase each other, and his ears fill
with the roar of the sea, and the machines trilling their tunes.
He’s crying, trying.
Lying dying.