Saturday, June 14, 2008

Scopophobia

Over in the corner, what do I see?
A little shadow figure
Sulking miserably
His head, his heart, his body darkly
His eyes that sadly follow starkly
Have never looked upon the light
Have never filled up with delight
A somber life for one to lead
To exist but to never be
Never be, and what's more
Never lived, and never born

Over in the corner what do I see?
A piece of the picture
A sad kind of dream
What's now, what wasn't, what will never be
What was is only a dim memory
Trappings of scarlet lining the skies
Thoughts like telarian, trapping the mind
Forever broken at the seams
Like a disenchanted dream
A pitiful half painted scene
From an artist who has gone to sleep