Silence

I sit here,
Night after night,
Drawing a picture of
Something that does not exist.

My pictures are beautiful,
Sitting on the Canvas,
Until the water hits them;
And I realize,
While the paint runs,
It is nothing but a picture...

Then the fear hits,
Striking my heart,
Making me wonder,
If all I'm ever gonna have,
Is just these pictures.

My dark room,
My dreams
My wants and desires;
Are all that I seem to have.

Everytime something tangible
Passes within my grasp,
It always ends up
Being too good to be true.

So what can I do,
About this hurt from within?
Press on and act
Like a person who's soul is gone.