A deserted street, where strayed souls walk but never stay,
and those who hover through the days, can feel the weight
under shadows never seen, for the light has been deprived
to the unmasked human being, the essence that has survived

Loneliness, will rather attach to the unique, the pure hearted
serving as chains which sag the dreams, the hopes departed
slowly ripped by human hands, from the wallpaper, savagely defiled
by time, and those cigarette burns, the human words engrailed

Disappointment, draining through my eyelids, forming those little leaks
dripping down the puddles, of dissolved emotions, my feeble heart seeks
understanding, of the uniform mass, to ease the agony of my attempt to conserve
the true essence of art, of my original heart, yet I remain alone, living with my verve