Benevolent fingers of vivid dreams…
master at avoiding things.
Surprised to see another day,
though still live in disarray.
Hostage of time, relentless past.
Specks of glass mirrors beauty
like pieces off a mask.
Hidden scars beneath peeled skin…
muted to hear screams within.
Guilty intentions, false pride
sticks form a castle built in the sky.
Still never learnt the lesson…
of cunning words, flamboyant dreams.
Broken hearts reflect the cost of unstable things!
What’s substance, when decay turns to mold…
grasping a piece of glass makes you feel whole .
Who could see through wounds,
buried beyond veils of sanity and sin
blaming humanity for the state of anguish your in
Ignorance is golden…
for a fool who loves gold.
Or builds with sticks instead of stones.
When will you listen
to the guidance of the spirit within?
When listening is worth so much more,
than shattering crystal..
as an afflicted soul.
Photograph by jinterwasHire An Editor