My bodies fate is intertwined with
the lies buried in my mind.
My minds eye is tangled within
these rupturing heart strings.

Winter has died a slow intermittent death,
brings on this hostile term, seasoned
with a blood red sun. I am left to search the
horizon for signs of fleeting delight.

Lucid dreams, and fading memories spark
images of beauty and wonders untold.
I feel the simple caress of steel upon my happy heart,
manifesting itself as white roses in the springtime.

Yes, winter is dead, and now all the beautiful women,
with the hair of fire must file their discord.
Their images, working in the late afternoon, in the fields below
my window, are left to marinade in my psyche - engrained.

I take mental pictures of these uninhibited images staring back at me,
to my horror they form a mirror who’s reflection is - my own.
My twin shadow you see, crept up on me in my defenseless slumber,
past the window of my personality disorder hangs a photo of me
If only I could find someone who cared enough to set me free.