I read that every poem is beautiful in it's own way
This poem has no beauty to behold, dare I say
For in the dank clefts of my mind
All to be found is emptiness and I'm blind

Death, decay, and rotting away
Flesh peeled back revealing life's fray
Crows trampled their feet on my face
Frozen expressions here to stay

Color has been drained
Bleached away from all the strands
Blank white pages, illusions
Void is the color life demands

I stand lifeless and still
Broken is time's prudencial
Never accomplishing anything
Never fulfilling potential