glass windows crystal panes quite mesmerized am I colored parts crimson shards I wish to have you for my eyes womanly arch above my head your shapes are all that I have bled my story starts like your creation
there was a time when all you were was magnificent idea in the mind of a man a quiet plan unwelcome in the land a time when you were a naked chaos trampled by cattle the dust watched your birth you rose screaming from earth men cursed while they worked a torture an eyesore with potential at best
Barren poles for arms Slabs of marble legs when your beauty arrived all were surprised and verified the validity of your maker's pride his blood, your paint his teeth become your enameled wall the iris of his eyes, your windows his mind the crowning dome his life the mascara of your shadows
the bones are at rest now no one pounds out their song on the old wintry walls and the days are long the wounds shown are old long out of style you will soonΒ Β recover from man's victory and slip back into old ways for from dust you were taken
I set out to write a simple one about my feelings . . .