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▄░▐░░░▄▄░█░▀▀ U HAVE BEEN SPOOKED BY THE
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░░░░░░░▀███▀█░▄
░░░░░░▐▌▀▄▀▄▀▐▄SPOOKY SKILENTON
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░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░▐▌SEND THIS TO 7 PPL OR SKELINTONS WILL EAT YOU

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░░░▌░▄▄▄▐▌▀▀▀
▄░▐░░░▄▄░█░▀▀ U HAVE BEEN SPOOKED BY THE
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░░░░░░░▄▄▐▌▄▄
░░░░░░░▀███▀█░▄
░░░░░░▐▌▀▄▀▄▀▐▄SPOOKY SKILENTON
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░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░▐▌SEND THIS TO 7 PPL OR SKELINTONS WILL EAT YOU

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░░░░░▐▀█▀▌░░░░▀█▄
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░░░▌░▄▄▄▐▌▀▀▀
▄░▐░░░▄▄░█░▀▀ U HAVE BEEN SPOOKED BY THE
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░░░░░░░▄▄▐▌▄▄
░░░░░░░▀███▀█░▄
░░░░░░▐▌▀▄▀▄▀▐▄SPOOKY SKILENTON
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░░░░░░█░░░░░░░░█
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░░░░░█░░░░░░░░░░▐▌SEND THIS TO 7 PPL OR SKELINTONS WILL EAT YOU

♥♥♥♥♥

♥♥♥♥♥

The man we surround, the man no one approaches
simply weeps, and does not cover it, weeps
not like a child, not like the wind, like a man
and does not declaim it, nor beat his breast, nor even
sob very loudly—yet the dignity of his weeping
holds us back from his space, the hollow he makes about him
in the midday light, in his pentagram of sorrow,
and uniforms back in the crowd who tried to seize him
stare out at him, and feel, with amazement, their minds
longing for tears as children for a rainbow.