Art Comments 9

Her eyes drift like ravens hunting a spark, they see it and fixate thus piercing the dark.
Attention fixated she locks in the stare, a scared and frightening doomsdayish glare.
Receiver look back resistance will break, the windows to her soul pour out and take.
Just a moment and in rushed it all, volumes all housed in a lone gothic hall.

The one in a crowd that is always alone, walking the woods to feel at home.
Darkness bathed in light, shades of grey in the night.
A heart with more feeling then a mind filled with meaning.

Go back home now and be one in the crowd.
Go back to the light and be scared of the night.
Go back and live without feeling, a life without meaning.

Her eyes drift like ravens hunting a spark, for a life to break and pull into the dark.
If you see her just try not to stare, else you to might see that doomsdayish glare.
Now go on and live forget this quick break, lessons and meaning I doubt you will take.
She is not alone, no not at all. There are those at home in a great gothic hall.