madness, melancholy ✓

the gilded window

the gilded window

in the corner of my room
lies a gold painted window.
it points up to the heavens
like a sharp winged arrow.

the glass is a sheet of rose;
encased in a gilded frame.
a tangle of metal bars,
an architect tried to tame

its divine slant is a trick.
that turns hope to acrimony.
an opulent castle of
mere clockwork monotony.

I shake, I shove, I shriek;
not a soul shall hear my plea.
all I can do, is look out
to a hope no eye can see

       a mask-less breath of air
       a classroom filled with students
       a trip not wrought with unease
       a handshake, a hug, a kiss

twinkle twinkle reckless stars,
how I wonder where you go.
never has the game of 'I spy'
thrown me such an aching blow

even if I squeeze my arm
up above the world so high
and desperately, try to
grasp one diamond from that sky

all I would see when I open
my palm, is a cold charcoal smear
that travels up my arm. thus,
quickly, my hopes disappear.

"stay home, stay safe,"

now this is what they tell me;
really, it makes sense; and
it's all for the best; I see.

so, I sit still. I stay quiet
and I gaze beyond my
gilded window

at the tragic hopes that fly
across this poisonous sky.

***