left in shards of broken self
of worn out, wounded skin
in mirrored mirth of dried out hopes
and shriveled life within
hollowed walls of tried and fail
of brittle empty bones
on flatly lined black troubled clefs
in echoed haunting tones;
still thin hands lie open yet
in placid mired sill
of dried up tears and whispered dreams
lay lost alone
-and still.
lifeofawillow 