We revere in the beauty of deserted landscapes.
The aged and weathered structures whisper to our imagination of a past untold.
The power of nature untamed and wild.
Lost somewhere in time.
But what of the deserted souls, abandoned by the world, the self abandoned ones lost to their own demons?
There is a somber beauty behind their aged bodies that have weathered the harsh environment they merely survived in.
Skin scarred, stretched, discolored, cut, wrinkled, sagging, punctured, scabbed, bruised. Decayed.
These scars whisper their stories.
Their lost hopes and vanished dreams.
And the power of the unkept mind.
A beautiful soul lost
behind the pain
in their eyes.