Everyone said what a terrible year
They could remember where they were
What they did in a final bid
From thereon in they would refer
Like slicing silence with a razor blade
There was a slithering hint of sound
As though beyond belief to great effect
There could be nothing more profound
People gazed amazed and looked about
Among the multitude they pleaded
All in vain they shared a sense of pain
What had happened wasn’t needed
Sometimes it is the way of things
Where many stand in lonely crowds
Helpless in their hopelessness
Enclosed in shrouds of woeful clouds
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