Hind Site Lacks No Whimsy  

breaths of contempt show a jaded mirror
glaring what is seen
reflects back toward things held
the self can't always grab onto relation
what we are we often can't tell
sell "I hate you!"
you buy it yourself

red flowers don't mind seeing what's blind
orange skies turn grey
until another exhale
for another's way
and the trials of missteps that
leave us asking
"What's next?"
can't we see where we've been
though we don't know who
the Hell we are

Poem by:
M.E.L.

(accompanied oil painting in the Dark Hearts Series also by M.E.L.)