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| Final Masterpiece
Unseen reality, invisible truth,
Frozen, a still-life in time,
Hard life now broken, tattered and torn,
Reaching the edge, poised to jump down.
The brush strokes of an artist,
His challenging, final piece,
A masterpiece, true, in end will hide,
The shadow in which he is cast.
Eyes once clear, shine with tears,
As unknown thoughts flood his mind,
Hidden behind this work of art,
His brown eyes show his soul.
Blinded by sight, deafened by tone,
Yet a soul of pure intent,
Filled within a beauty untold,
Which tops those in happiness.
A genuine heart of the purest gold,
Which hides his fearful faults,
This costume to reveal other acceptance,
And a mask to make tears disappear.
Although he is shattered, rusted, and worn,
A sparkle still glints with his smile,
The masterpiece finished; the costume complete,
And the artist’s work started, now done.
Dedicated to Blake Seidel | | |
| The Rush of Rain
Here to face her fears alone,
no one behind to fall back,
this time inside drowns silent,
as the rain starts seeping down.
Tonight without a safety set,
on a ledge under the stars,
she softly whispers her silent prayer,
while rain starts seeping down.
A step toward the ledge,
leaning over, watching them fade,
secret love's flame engulfed,
around her rain starts seeping down.
Deep breath gone, eyes now closed,
her body flies, the rush of life,
the point of adrenaline, second-still,
now rain slows, seeping down.
Darkness closes, no light to show,
the pain inside now ceased,
no option left to save her life,
slowly dries, seeping down.
Here to face her fears alone,
no one behind to fall back,
this time inside drowns silent,
the rain stops, seeping down. | | |
| Golden Truth
Head held high, mind-set strong,
self-esteem, golden confidence,
a shining light, the key to her soul,
the sliver of preview, seen by none.
One key kept inside, locked from others,
saved for the special, a name engraved,
beauty and love, for one remained,
waiting for one man, shown to be true.
Untouched innocence, ring for truth,
belief by her conscience, is right,
together forgotten this young promise kept,
alone, now an outcast by choice.
No scars damp the woman's clean surface,
her eyes twinkle at small ne'erless delight,
a feminine physique as a canvas,
and pure heart to top off the mix.
Outgoing to most caring suitors,
but shy to the one whom she cares,
heeding the knowledge of others,
the deepening and intelligent side.
No longer a little one crushing,
but a love that can span countless seas,
together alone without knowing,
the next chance could be final at last. | | |
| Broken Wings
Walking through this darkened pain,
no light to shine the way,
fear and pain surround me, cold,
broken alone, fallen, gone.
Fogged with sorrows dreadful cries,
one shadow to shade disgrace,
delicate porcelain to hide the past,
yet weakened to the tears.
My wings taken away, broken still,
left only with a helping guide,
hidden in darkness, yearned for light,
alone to fight a struggle, bound.
The burning of rope, bleeding cuts,
kisses of acid, razorblade sheets,
lay her tonight in the river, so cold,
as your love silently floats away.
The scars from my wings, still bleed,
as my shivers continue to grow.
One final breath, the novel is done,
and alone left behind one drop of blood. | | |
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