Canvas


If I could inscribe his sorrows from the tears that struck,
The canvas and I would be drowned forever alone
The painted blues, and his easy gaze masked
With the mad man's glue
Left nothing, but an ellipse to etch
An emotionless face he far too dreams
The puppet he facades on colored in hues,
Never seen a meaningless grey
For if I may, draw the lines, that saddens this melancholy high
The ink-less depth of his soul would suffice to
The reality in which he resides
His despair written from the rain that fell,
A dreamless wisher
Who wishes to dream
Became a believer with no beliefs so it may seem
The puppet, made to dance and play
Blankly stared, emotionless:
An empty hollow of lingering flames
These hopeless ambitious quivers
Sighing, menacingly
If I could feel his tears,
Steal the sorrows from his lips
Then maybe forever alone
Could be just a dream of
You and me

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