Desperation.
It's written all over.
In every line, every tiny crease, every deep wrinkle.
He doesn't even try to hide it anymore.
It's obvious.
Calling out to anyone who will listen.
Anyone who will lend an ear.
Though he believes none can help.
Desperation.
You can see it on his face,
his smudged and oiled face.
It is apparent in his unkempt hair
ragged and tangled.
His eyes are deep and sullen
dark around the socket, dying.
His lips are cracked and dry,
his mouth open just slightly
gasping at air
giving up.
His beard is overgrown and messy.
Desperation.
His hands calloused and cold
did they once hold someone dear?
His gaze, empty, dark
Did it once hold the stars in it's sight?
What did he lose?
Why has he given up?
Has he felt loved?
Adored? Did he ever belong?
Will he ever find his way?
Will he ever know truth,
beauty,
eternity,
joy.
Why must it be so dark,
lonely.
Empty.
Hopeless.
Desperation
Wow, that was beautiful. So So beautiful. Did you write that?
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