Sad Place

Grown men wonder, they ponder about the pond, the beyond, the resound beauty of the feminine form. Deformed are the aspects, a breath is taken in and never released. A picture is taken, a life is mistaken, a thought goes forsaken. A woman is found empty and lifeless and yet new in the sight. A man is reborn draped in white. Silence would speak and the memories are spoken, the wind would howl and her voice would be heard within. A kiss is exchanged, yet nothing is between. The smile is never seen, eyes are never closed. On the mantle lays a picture. On the pages, a feather goes bemoaned. 

What are we to make of this?

The world is a sad place.

The fibres that tether us frayed by the former owner, the breeze blows through the trees yet no music is made. A hand is held within another, yet no reparations are paid. 'I love you' but true feelings go unsaid. Blood spilt, but emotions were not embedded. The coat of this reality shedding. 

We are lost in the endless jungle of our city. We are lost in the endless torrent of our depravity. Levity pays no toll on the pity of our gritty, witty reality. Itty bitty glass fragments, really shitty on the feet. We are lost in the endless desert of our life. The crystal clear walls between you and I. Makes me ask;

What are we to make of this?

The world is a sad place.