Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Soul without a Voice

You brought symphonies into my head, 
playing pieces so quickly, that I could not dash the melody down

You painted pictures rivaling those of the greats;
Van Gogh and da Vinci pale in comparison to yours

You wrote modern day fairy-tales;
where the geek got the girl and lived happily ever after.

You comforted my mind when it thought up absurd fears;
you brought the breaking of the sun through the clouds after the storm
(quelled the storm as only God himself could).

You conquered my negative outlook on life;
you showed me there is something to live for.

That all went away in a blink of the eye;
you found out about my treasures.

Like a band of thieves;
you broke into my heart and pilfered the masterpieces (which you created).

I am now left weeping in the middle of an empty white room;
glass cases lie smashed on the floor
pages are torn out of books,
tan lines are visible on the wall where the paintings once hung
the record player is skipping over the song of mourning.

If there is anything I can learn from this;
it is that I shouldn't have shared my treasures.

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