She stood,
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.
She stood,
Unconscious of light, color or sound.
She held on to ignorance of gratitude.
Her mind,
conquered with pessimism and cynicism.
Her eyes,
guided by mirrors of delusion.
Her nose,
seized with the scent of silly cupidity.
Her mouth,
spouted phrases,
drenched in a pool of rage and loathing.
Her brain,
losing the reflective ability.
She stood,
Whilst the bewitching pieces of art,
stared at her dense sockets, in awe.
With time,
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.
She stood,
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.
She stood,
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.
She stood,
Glancing at the room with admirable reflection.
Her reality,
now newly affected.
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