The faces I once knew,
Haunting now,
Like spectres,
And places I visited,
Crafted on a canvas,
The faded colours mingle,
Merge to form an oily swirl,
A tangled web of criss crossed fabrics,
A mesh of interlocking threads,
CRASH,
The wall shatters,
Fragments of life scatter,
Splinter under foot,
No veil is left,
No mask to hide the shame,
Conceal the rotting, disintergrating debris,
Of the once proud portrait,
Burdened flesh,
Gleaming in the moonlight,
The wrinkles and blemishes,
The shaking hand,
So vulnerable now,
Stripped bare,
Naked on the floor,
As it was in the beginning,
The secret garden,
Vibrant and alive,
But what became of that idyllic scene?
So innocent were we,
That whisper though,
IUndetected it crept in,
Filled our minds,
Seeping poison,
Dark, black,
Yet strangely white as well,
How deceiving that was,
Neither are true colours,
The real rainbow is not there to be seen,
That vibrant paint,
Lining our innards,
Smeared on our souls,
An unseen pallet,
So who could trully stand there now,
Alone,
Centre stage,
Glaring, blinding spotlight,
Search light,
Say they didn't play a part,
They were an extra on the set,
Background noise,
A passer by,
An onlooker,
We all had our role,
All changed our lines,
Re-wrote the script,
Bu there was no escaping inevitability,
The crash scene had to happen,
It was written there,
In black and in white,
We were all under the same sky,
Just before it happened,
All saw the same pale moon,
In its omnicient splendour,
It knew that no one would survive,
You see you can scorn for a while,
Mock individuality,
But in the end,
All lives collide,
Crash,
It is then that you will realise,
All that the stage directions meant,
So re-paint the canvas,
Tender the garden,
Piece together the shattered wall,
Prevent the crash,
And find out how the story really goes.