Something happened
What it was, he couldn't explain
The light switch has been extinguished
Goodbye sun, hello endless sheeting rain

Withdrew until he could see right through
all the preposterous lies these men spewed

Now he knows how she felt
This mysterious woman with long,straight hair
Walking twice a day past the circle
Where this solitary bed was made,
faithfully each and every day

Fumbling with these worn rosary beads
Mumbling through acts of contrition
until her fingers begun to bleed

But she's trying to see all the good
that's hidden day by day in this world
She's crying over stale bread and cold soup
Forgotten houseplants in the corner
have begun to wither and droop

So she sits on the front stoop
Counting the cars passing by
Reflecting off the dirty windows
Where life simple refuses to go

He walks right on by
Heavy mood for such idle hands
Writing and painting when he's expected to
Wondering why he'd rather crawl than stand

And there could never be a biography written
on this mysterious woman so painfully omitted
Won't anyone remember her brooding?
Going through these motions
The pain layered deep within her own skin?

Like some Impressionist painting
The pigment staining like rust colored water
Spiraling down the lime crusted drain
As these words turn forever silent
Chilling, unspoken in this bitter refrain...

Mathias Thom
written 8/31/07