I have no purpose any more.
I’m a painter who’s gone blind
And a singer who’s gone deaf.
There is no call for what I sell.
I still daub colors on a board
To smell the Linseed Oil again
I hear the music in my head
And mouth the words in silence.
There is no surgery or cure,
What’s gone is lost forever.
And I must find a way to live
In silent darkness, if I can.
ljm
Another of those dreary tomes I wrote when I was depressed. I'm better now.