The Writers Voice
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More Than Just A Pale Memory
Never showing your naked emotions,
You toy with peoples hearts,
Pawing at their desires.
I've watched you with your captives,
How you taunt them,
Slowly you move,
As you descend upon them.
They hunger for you
And take you as you are.
All who are attracted to you are blinded,
Like moths to a bright shining light,
Your power overwhelms,
Your words are deceptive,
A need for adoration is always apparent in your eyes,
Your dark sinister eyes that mask the fading soul within.
A man who is loved so much,
By so many,
Hides behind a barrier so high,
Never wanting to be seen,
For if revealed,
Your world would surely crumble around you
And you would simply be, no more.
More than just a pale memory,
My friend of old,
We once shared the emptiness of straying.
Still locked inside my head,
I feel you some where pacing
As the echoes of your screams become dim.
A father, a brother,
A lover, a protector,
An aggressor, a child,
Someone kind, someone cold,
Someone hurting and lost, never to be found.
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