I

What's there left to find,
Among the ashes and shredded pages
that twister about?
Relics of a fallen age;
Remnants of a revere,
Of a time when purpose swallowed
Doubt, and Fear,
And all of my negligent affections.

There are nothing but eyes,
Horror filled and massive,
Left in the distorted elegance
That was once greeted me
In the silver-shimmer looking glass.
Nothing but eyes that document
Long lost ambitions,
As they tumble down the well,
to join dreams, long dead, now
Rotting.