The phantom doesn't care anymore,
He purged his demons on the floor.
Broken from the consistent peril.
The gift of guilt inside the feral.
This creature is hidden amongst the shadows.
The trees and dead wood are pierced with arrows.
Will he find another ghost?
In isolation awaiting a host.
Reflecting a familiar reflection,
the pond of hate rippled back rejection.
Creator observed his torn interior,
reached out and touched his lifeless exterior.
Longing for more than the spiritual, a physical element unreachable.
Observing something tangible, the outlet simply unbreachable.
"Please taste these tears and share my perception
I was born to possess and at no exception".
Living a nightmare that never ends.
The colors white, black and gray in a variety of blends.
© 2019 Adam Mason