It started so clear.
Not a thing that I couldn't hear.
The world took it's hues
But now they're nothing but cues of confusion.
A vision so fine
Now refracted to prickles and pines.
The pinholes appear
Though with no one else near it means nothing.
The headache pounds
Surrounded by clouds
And a kneaded eraser is dragged
Until there's not a thing to be had.
I'm painted and fading as the artist blurs all the strokes.
It will only continue to go when my clarity time revokes.
My haunt of an afterimage will linger while the rest of me goes.
I'll tarry so softly before the next composition's proposed.
Now I waste away
In a collector's hold to inveigh
Of how I deserved
To be kindly observed in a room all of my own.
A crowd does not touch
And my features to be refurbished and grown.
@thefuneralcrasher Feb 2022
Some great lines in here!
“Of how I deserved to be kindly observed in a room all of my own”
And
“The pinholes appear Though with no one else near it means nothing.”
Are bang on the money