Elucidating Questions

It’s a cruel thing to note, that they are gold regardless of the colour they are painted during the night in the dark canvas of the lights

That there is silver in the threads like setting to keep them together when the red begins to fray.

That the beautiful pottery that was once made of clay, folded in with golden threads and lines to make it whole again

So we go back to explain, what you can’t see them?

It’s not seen it’s felt, the pain like a bruise on the heart, the shock of cold, hating everything as it comes

There’s no sights set, no seeing of the future for anyone else. After all, I’d rather not hear.

It’s after all, bleak, nothing, empty, alone.

And I’m not even afraid. Respect for it, but nobody wants to hear,

So who cares if it happens? Just one, eyes twitching, exhausted, alone, lonely, and forgotten.