Reflections in the gallery

Greetings and salutations, to my inner child.
It’s taken too long to realize,
But what does it matter anymore?
I still hear my voice screaming,
Now, I suffer through my mistakes.
Every moment of my life, is captured in brilliant color, on a wonderful canvas.
This is my gallery, this is where I live.
Never to experience it first hand,
I wander through the halls of the gallery, and watch my life as it appears in the canvas.
Never wanting to be here, never wanting to leave.
Stuck in this denial, tainted with guilt and fear.
I’ve reached the end of all my dreams.
Where’s the bullet in the gun.
I stand apart, I stand away.
Something lost, can never be saved.
Lifetime of fucking things up.
Existence, of never being repaired.
Become the white dove, stained red with my tears.
See the red roses, faded white with inhibitions.
Perfectly content with my hell, I know I’ll never break free.
Shutting my eyes, I manipulate the darkness.
Opening my eyes, the gallery is all I see.
All the things that I should be,
Ever so near, yet infinitely distant from where I stand
I still see my self, from a distance,
Standing on the rocks out in the ocean,
Silhouetted against the setting sun,
The brisk ocean breeze blows my hair lightly back and to the side.
Everyone goes away in the end.
There’s no one left here with me.
So shall I die here in my united infinite solace, alone, always.
Feel me, See me, Hate me, Kill me.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *