her image ransacked
her vision blighted by crawling thief
and she was in hard pursuit
but misery is a folded page
that never reveals its true face
until one is beyond the
redemption of being able to withdraw its poison

i know its hard to
hear one voice in this sea of souls
crying out in fear and pain
thousands of pens and paintbrushes
each etching into the unyielding
tapestry of our world
their own voice
their own vision
their own sorrows and joys

my face obscured to you
my world foreign to you
but we share this moment here now
that my pen speaks to you
if it can tell you nothing more
if my labors embark nothing else
let it be that you have been heard
you are not alone
you have been heard