Searching For the Lost Stare
SEARCHING FOR THE LOST STARE
Where is hope
so Forlorn
all the things I used to know
suffocated in front of me
all Obscene
Where is heart
where is love
I thought those were real
seems Twas wrong
by the raging brooks with their cerulean strides
lamenting the mist with fizz awry
I stand near lonely meadows pondering
what happened to my painting of earth
what scoundrel dared to rape it
what happened to the purity of the natures
what Miscreant dared taint it.
Touching every tree, their brown rough beneath my fingertips
passing their fears and anger towards me.
I sit and stare at the last remnants of my painting
Without Hope, heart, or future.
its been taken from me.
stolen by some cretin,
and I haven't the brush to paint it anew.
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