Dull raindrops leaving trails down the glass
As they land in my mug brimming with
Feelings of missed opportunity and swatches of colors
That have all bled into something of a cloudy grey

Clouds that hold demons at bay behind sheets of rain
Fires that burn in the cold quiet mornings
Pronounced and protruding slowly it comes to me

Sinister thought crimes that etch themselves woven lines
Plots long forgotten and discarded memories
Pronounced as it seems, still slowly It inclines

And out from the shadows painted by steady hands
Carved out of mistakes, they know from the memory
Creatures are calling me, out from the darkness
Festering innocence offers me a reply

Each one was made from the stroke of a pen
And what sort of unknowns have I begun to deify

They were made for me

They call my name, still taunting me

All I can do to stay here a while more
Ending my efforts in each ignored symphony
Along the back wall and in every corner
As soon as my back is turned, they all start whispering

I try and hide away

Still, I hide away

The forest is shrouded by miles of brickwork
Fast talking incongruity
Of iconography, smoke stacks birthing machinery

That's how it starts

And here I hide away