In a desolate room.
The gentle sunlight,
cast her shadow of affecting reality.
The floor unveiled a bouquet of colours,
colours fabricated by the large casement.
The mouth of the room played a melody,
A melody whistling tunes of silver.
Unconscious of light, color or sound.
She held on to ignorance of gratitude.
conquered with pessimism and cynicism.
guided by mirrors of delusion.
seized with the scent of silly cupidity.
drenched in a pool of rage and loathing.
losing the reflective ability.
Whilst the bewitching pieces of art,
stared at her dense sockets, in awe.
the sunlight hid behind the mountains,
bidding the day farewell.
The colours soon retired,
the casement turning dark.
The mouth grew tired,
the melodies came to a halt.
now near the dark casement,
her eyes, longing for the faint light behind the mountains.
She found herself drowning,
in the ocean named regret,
choking on the waves,
blanketed with blame.
cursing the oblivious of her mind.
The light had now fallen,
the casement turned black.
She glared into oblivion,
wondering how the pull of wanting more,
could invent an illusion of nothingness.
How the beauty of art could be seen as desolate.
Glancing at the room with admirable reflection.
now newly affected.