Paintings black as evening,
Rendered helpless,
Darkest strokes of a brush that mean nothing...
Expressions of silent
art,
Unable to relate,
Experiments in Death,
Now I'm the subject...
Elations of slowest death,
Everything so cold and
lost,
Grandiose show of lies,
Uneven requiems to the blind.
I am your face in the mirror pane,
I am the sunlight behind
the rain,
I am mist, a ghostly frost,
I am the memories that you thought you'd lost...
And you are my foggy
reflection,
The wind that blows from all directions,
You are my souls other half,
You are me under your mask.
Am I worth
your glance anyway?
Scared to look at my own face,
When will the pain cease plaguing me?
I've lived to hate another
day...
I am the pictures on your wall,
I am everything yet so small,
And you're the fingers through my hair,
In a feature
where the soul is spare...
I can't feel the same with all this gone,
I fear that this mind game has gone on for far too
long....