Scenes in the Dark

Trapped in the darkness of time

a single memory, a single taste

of a land no more, a time, a place

lost in the hands of a clock

ever ticking, ever bringing

Light and Dark, happiness and sorrow.

On the cold, hard surface

of a rock ever standing

the misunderstanding

suffocating black

choking out the life of a

once desired dream. 

The need to communicate

trumps the need for survival;

the need to be heard, understood.

That is why on the walls of so many caves

is a story written in blood.

A story written in blood. 

A tale of a time before history 

somebody needs to be heard

so they draw on the walls of their death bed

one last tale of the misunderstanding and sorrow

of the life ebbing out of a wound on their chest

so that someone remembers.

So that someone remembers the claws and the pain,

the temptation, the mask and disguise

the beauty, the wonder, those horrid green eyes,

A needy hand reaches out feebly

clawing the walls in one last desperate attempt

to not be forgotten.