A prisoner in the constructs
That you created blind, in my mind still I find
Darkened spaces and places and traces of rhyme
I pushed you away so many times
Yet here you are, defining the rules of my dreams
Such pretentious themes, still alarmed by your screams
The shadows aren’t as frightened as you are it seems
Though their velvet lined gloves, are blacker than ash
Like little white doves or maybe a rash
No those words don’t make sense, now! maybe I’m tense
I just want to leave, so I wrote what you read (RED)
Can’t you see what I’ve said?

It’s redundant

*It’s dead