You will see me rise up from the darkness
between your two earthly eyes
causing the blindness of shadows
where you've coded desperation into reason.
You will cut down that tree as my condescension
spans the full length of your lines
whether drawn, written, presented, or engraved
along the forefront of your heart.
You will hear the voice of a woman crying
in the back room into the walls
where no name has known recognition
but your own and all the glory therein.
You will ask yourself why the mirror seems
an illusion, a shield, a distortion of me
as the truth cuts away your alibi, your justification,
your logical side pinning of love.
You will want to walk away, and will you?
Would I even mind? Are you a mirage?
I will turn on myself and distract the heart ache
with art, paint you into the remains.
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