fauxcroft

Trudging down the grey roads

His mood is one of darkness,

Hat pulled down to cover his eyes

His mental state close to madness,

His scarf wrapped round his mouth

As if he’s trying to keep life out,

He sees the chiaroscuro clouds

And thinks it will rain no doubt,

His body aches and suffers pain

Yet he’s really not yet that old,

He no longer feels incurred against the cold,

It seeps through every fibre, bone and muscle of his being

Funny though that what he sees,

Not everybody else is seeing,

Maybe it’s because, the beauty around him he’s not feeling,

He doesn’t see the wild flowers growing on the verge

Or the tubs or hanging baskets of rainbow coloured blooms

Now is that not quiet absurd?

Maybe all he sees is obsidian through his eyes

It could be because of his mindset

His illusory is always telling him lies,

He has constructed his consciousness

To view all things so negatively,

So that he now is simply missing out on the true reality,

Because beauty in all its wonders starts from deep within

And sadly his ethos on life is so gloomy and depressing,

He’s missing out on so much

And it’s impossible to tell or show him,

Because no matter how you try he gets very threatening,

This guy in grey with a dark mood

You can see on every street,

And every time I see these people I just want to weep,

Because they’re missing out on so much love

And missing out on so much beauty,

And yet these are two things that they truly seek

But do not have the eyes to see,

So they become so much more sad and bitter

That of positivity they are quitters,

Choosing that state, because it’s just so hard to see

That maybe now for them beauty and love and light now ceases to be.