In my minds home, Of shadows that hold,
These pulsing waves that ignite.
My heavy brush Strokes, are forced to invoke,
A power that’s lost in the night.

Colors, they slip from the might of my grip,
Unclaimed yet taking their form.
On a canvas of hope, meant to provide a scope.
Only so that my dreams can be born.

But how come this time, the colors collide,
Like cymbals crashing in the air.
Chaotic crescendo’s of false innuendo’s,
That swear I am not even there.

Shades of my sorrow and joy, I am harrowed.
A star that is struggling to shine.
My rhythmic soul...