Watched by the ever-damning image from the mirror,
by Carl Balis
She is cast into her eerie dungeon of relentless fear.
It's so empty, so cold in there, dare I come near?
Circled by runaway emotions and just unable to tame,
Her soul is wrapped in a cloak of embarrassing shame.
Is it possible that I compete in such a game? Her mind's eye sees beauty always fading, like flowers that wilt,
Oh!, I can't hold on, such is the pounding agony of her guilt.
Could I ever find a home in a house so built?
All three blending to a feverish psychological insanity,
Leading to her inevitable end, crippled and bent by vanity.
Can I ever find love in her world if to me it's profanity?
Self-Doubt Panoramas of gateways, multitudes of twisted trails,
Which choice: what corridor of hell to crawl., what god to crudely hail?
Stunned by possibilities and promises and elaborate tales,
Swallowed by the whisper of wild winds to fill my sagging sails. Conquest I do not want magic or spells or potions
To set my soul in motion.
The boldness of breath,
The march of mind,
This is my devotion.