I saw her through my window
whilst watching the rain fall
She just stood there for a while
and let it all wash over her

The cold crept inside her bones
till she felt nothing but numb

The rain changed her
and I wish
I was not at the window,
but dancing in the rain

The artist - God - in the process of making me
saw fit to void normality
carelessly losing sight of any perspective
I desired or deserved.

He abandoned bright shades of happiness
favoring darker hues.
He emphasized circles under down-cast burdened eyes,
while highlighting a timeless frown that falls from a
displeasured smile.

Lines of agony, tracks from suffering
not desired to be seen, mark my face.

They're too much like scars unhealed.
They accentuate affliction on the rough and withered surface.

On his last strokes
he placed black pigment dripping with torture,
and a daunting outlook on life. Just for laughs.

Time neither seems to move nor stop, Just is.

Pain illustrates the worst portraits.

If given the chance, I'll pass on the next life.
The artist and I are not on a friendly basis.

They flee and fly like jostling birds -
or gray moths 'round a light.
They pirouette in lazy rings -
while frolicking in flight.

Like gypsies, leaves will soon depart
with tender thoughts for wind
Soon to sweep and persevere -
in lives undisciplined.

Some will scurry in their haste
to pester pine trees praying.
But then, they'll sit, for just a bit -
In fields where I was laying.