Sestina

Darkness consumes the bright-eyed thoughts
Once owned by innocence, now sentenced to certain doom
Only twisted by unruly media from darkened views
She sits alone, trusting no one, pursuing only self interest
Deeply intertwined in her book…fiction becomes reality
A world of which one has the power to over come the dark

Alone she sits absorbing her book, surrounded by grays so dark
Deeper into her book she falls, loosing any sense of thought
Falsely guided by characters lost with fictional realities
Lead into darkness without knowing the restrictions of this doom
Once all is lost only the thought of escaping would be her interest
Wondering though the forest she see only blackened views

Tangled and torn were these views
Seemingly her attempts only worsened as she too becomes so dark
No one now can help her pursue any other interest
She cries, loosing any and all control of thought
Letting herself fall into this doom…
Which Is now her only reality

Morbid is this reality
Amongst the fictionalized views
Seeping into the blurred doom
Spiraling toward the dark…
Flashes of self stream by returning lost thoughts
Lost without interest

Why was nothing to come of interest?
When seemingly so close was reality
For once it was of herself she thought
Color seeped slowly back into views
Stripping, striking, down the dark
Twisting a knife in the heart of doom

Bleeding hate of lust, lost doom
Breathing in air filtered by her interest
Ink blurred pages become the only dark
Once again fiction is fiction as reality is reality
A painting of Picasso’s best filled her views
And tranquility of life consumed her thoughts

For she had seen the dark, held beneath reality
The hells of doom, and savior of interest
And her own are her views, her own are her thoughts.