The reflection in her eyes was one of disbelief.
Like a child captivated by the fire.
Autumn and the breeze would bring past wounds close - Back to feeling.
Harmony was no closer then it was that time. - Crimson lips carved out her devilish answer for our desires.
All that one would wish to known, has done nothing but but drove himself mad.
One would see her as the muse for all that has died. - Left as our symbol divine.
So tell me what should the soul do when it finds itself sifting through the ashes.
Secrets only known cannot exist. - What cannot be. - Always makes us feel right.
All we believe our selves to be is nothing but a black mask cliché.
Echos and whispers do nothing but mask as forgotten pain.
Life is nothing but a dying thought.
Tragedy is everytime you pay attention and read between the lines.
How can we say it was worth it all?
has done nothing but but drove himself mad. = was but meant to be repeated here...?
[Wgt] does it all look so tragic? - So bleak. = ??
you most certainly have managed to paint a bleak outlook here. while i am not sure as to what it is you are getting at i can say that the imagery weighs this piece down dramatically.
im not sure whether your intention is to create something the reader can identify with and understand or whether you are writing for self release and expression...
some times we write soley for ourselves and it matters not what others see/think.
but i think if you are trying to communicate something you are going to have to put a little more effort into doing so because your imagery points to a "she" but gives no indication as to who she is or why i should know her or hear about her...
you have some good imagery though...
muse for all that has died and all the implications of such an image is messing with my head big time.
Submission Name: Tragic
