All the days have come and gone,

All the songs have been discarded

For all went floating by of late,

In faded haze of the dearly departed


A flicker here, a rawness there,

A vision so unbecoming

Something none had ever thought,

Would be so long abiding


Seeing all through jaded lense,

Into those rooms once so content

Now sitting empty save her thoughts,

And dusty books she’s never read


Sourrounded by the dead dry gatherings,

Of carefully framed intelligentsia

Though artful dodger she may seem,

Esconced in her dementia


One who loved her knows far better,

Oh! how crassly artificial

That faintly dainty outer shell,

Shrouding thoughts so wryly cynical


A song once spoke of killing softly,

An apt and fitting description

Of death by words she never utters,

An effortless decapitation


Of those who dare to come close by,

And linger in that land awhile

Where seeming beauty ever dwells,

Yet thoughtlessly she does beguile


Those who stumble into her web,

Until their hearts and souls are bled

And there bereft they linger on,

Once beloved, now left for dead



copyright r.b.franklin 20/05/06

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