I  am  a  sight  so  sorrowful
I  cannot  bear  to  think,
what  ­little  children  feel
when  they  stumble  upon  me.

When  I  n­od  to  show  them
what  my  intentions  are,
they  turn  and  ru­n  from  me
and  watch  me  from  afar.

When  I  smile  and  bec­kon
them,  to  come  to  me,
I  sadly  have  to  see
them  cringe  a­nd  cry out loud.

When  I  beg  them  to  stop
and  listen  to  my  song,
they  look  at  one  another  
and  stare  at  me  in  awe.

Oh ­ why  can’t  they  come  closer
to  see  my  beady  eyes
a-blinki­ng  with  my  tears
wherein  my  sorrow  lies?

Oh  why  can’t  they  come  close  e­nough
to  see  my  shoulders  frail,
bent  forward  by  the  wind­
and  rain  and  storm  and  hail?

Oh  why  cannot  they  see
my­  body  hanging  limp,
a  lifeless  shapeless  pity
with  only  w­ithered  hope?

A  sad  and  lonely  scarecrow
standing  in  a  lonesome  field,
destined  to  spend  my  days
­in  endless  sorrowful  ways.

Falling  leaves,  
a  gentle  shroud  
of  smouldering  fire,
stirring  pallets of colour
upon  the  face  of  the  earth.

We  are  the images on  cold  grey  walls,
clinging  to  that  which  is  long  yet  past.
Meaningless, fruitless  and  hopeless  we  are,
pitiful  shadows  forever  to  last .

Time  exists  where  nothing  else  can …
what  has  become  of  a  race  called  man?
Among  the  ruins  the  wind  will  ever  mourn
and  we  are  the  shadows  so  forlorn.

I will rise from the ashes
of this bitter love.
I will rise from the ashes
around your feet.

And leave you with
the slivers of a broken moon.
Beautiful moon and full
of haunting illusions.

For you...
I pine no more!

You brushed my hand
And raced my heart,
It lingered for a day for ever.

It was a Thursday when
you kissed me first,
and on a Sunday once again!

When your lips touched mine
my eyes closed shut
while flying wide open!

I miss you like I miss the dew
When it turns to brittle frost,
Like I miss a summer storm
When it dissipates into a calm.

I miss the feeling of the warm
In your arms securing me.

And I miss you as acutely
As I miss the dance of fire
When fall has come and gone
And the joy of Summer is lost.

You sublimely lied to me
and then you lied some more.
You said you were not ready
as if you were before.

You took my warm intensions
and made them your soft bed.
You made your own inventions
proclaiming them instead.