Sombre shadows clawed the wall,
And swallowed each leaf the fell in fall;
With each step, his mind did wander;
Wrapping on the wooden door,
He stood upon the tiled floor,
This man was always gentle,
Not insensitive, not mental;
The shadow flickered on the wall;
Adoring and amiable,
This man was always capable;
A family, a wife and child,
Who loved him, not mild;
The shadow was a shroud;
Forever enclosed by art,
This choice wasn’t exactly smart;
He knew he had begun to fall,
A fall which left his shadow tall;
His mind, a suspended cloud;
His action, he couldn’t forgive
Himself, a life he shouldn’t live;
And with every painting hanging there,
He was reminded to beware;
Of ever present shapes on walls;
Of demons dead, and in the past,
However, this sighting was not the last;
A classic face, immersed in colour,
A detailed portrait of a brother;
The silhouette pictured on walls;
Painted eyes filled with sorrow,
Those eyes will never see a morrow;
What is written in that grave face?
Emotions bottled inside a case;
The shadow, trailed the walls,
A frightened brother, a dark shade
That truly the man had made;
His brother had seared in his mind,
This man was greatly far from kind;
A constant companion always near;
He paced the room, that gloomy room
Where that sinister face did loom;
A memory from a dream,
A flash, an overhead beam;
The brother murdered on walls;
The brother, was was the friend
The heart he truly did bend;
From behind an opened book,
He had spied his brother’s look;
Why is it that brother haunts me?
His friend’s wife, that divine girl,
Her dress spun in a whirl;
His love for the girl, shone like stars,
That man’s heart, shook against iron bars;
Does that ghost on walls, know I loved her?
The man couldn’t stand that sight no more,
The sight that shook him to the core;
“My brother, may I have a word?”
Leading him, to where they would not be heard;
On walls, hatred was behind that shadow;
Inside that man, a cold heart, beat,
His heart pounding as he took his seat;
A glass poppy was soon thrown,
And so the horrid seed was sown;
Cries of fright, bounced off the walls;
‘the fearsome madman’, was his name,
‘******’, ‘Villain’, it was all the same;
Before he slid a knife, through
that brother’s centre of heart;
***********
Cursed anger! That took a friend,
A ceased heart he could not mend;
The shadow, spilling silent tears;
That horrible, hard-hearted heart,
This was how his nightmares start;
The thoughtless, unruly rage,
His anger became his just cage;
That ghost, that lingering shade;
His face now weary and lined,
His life a thread, he didn’t mind;
‘What should become of me?’ he said,
His voice said, deep inside his head;
Again, a brother on the walls;
There seemed nowhere else to turn,
A lesson, far too late to learn.