Illusion
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“Age is a reality. The effects of age, more-so a reality. The way we ‘interpret’ ourselves would not be a thing, were we to not have surroundings. That is, the way we interpret ourselves, comes at the reaction of what the world has done to us. Even if a human were to be immortal, would
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There are to those, whose face shines among,Upon ivory canvases.Though, yours that faces itself,Upon the stark white shape,Is there for my smears,My kisses.My foiled becoming,Is for you to breathe,As your lips remain idle.It is due to me,I have painted a scene,A sight of a face, so texture-less in textures. No life, I see, among this
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Petals have fallen, over a naked leaf,The soil has been where I found thee laying,Frozen and dead, with a mark upon thy forehead,The mark of terror. The mark of a beast.The mark from a man,Who knew your heart, taken to keep. Beloved, with thy tranquil eyes,That I still see, beneath this frail temple,You have hair
Modern Romanticism 