Coloured

 

The demons of the heart, so strange yet so powerful
They pilfer the energy of the soul
And then some, break the will
bewilder, awe and amaze me often
break my will of commitment
razor sharp, those icy claws
of realization, when it dawns
it finds my conscience dead
Petrified , in some bog

I solemnly criticize my stand
one that I have taken
I often wonder how it was ever done
a heart of shattered glass
stuck together, like an unimaginable task
with the hurt hands of my own, still dreaming
the reddened hands, fated to be red forever, in pain