Then.. At a certain point, it's like an optical illusion
What you hang on the walls seems to be playing tricks
You watched at a certain distance and space
It's like those 3D stereograms that always changes
Back and forth, back and forth
And you doubt what you see
Flipping images just get you dizzy
Too overwhelmed, too confused, too dazzled
You want to put it down to observe a little bit more
But it weigh just too much for your hands to endure
And it breaks, scattered to pieces as it falls
And you look at the wall.. It has a big square stain
A perfect size to the frame.
And you look back at your beloved picture, that's no more
It's in pieces all scattered through the floor
Stunned you look back at your wall
And you remembered, what you believed could not be wrong
It is the same picture, the beautiful one once on the wall.
Not wanting to accept what believed is false
You take the frame back up with no picture at all
Sadden and confused you rushed to the ground
To pick up the scattered glasses and images torn.
And you try to put them together
But the pieces were to small to gather
In desperation you relentlessly work
Then found the floor and hands filled with blood.
All the small parts of glass has left small cuts
Too small to be noticed, but as many, they were not.
It may have just pinched, but tens to hundreds it sored
It stung, it ached, it twinge, it throbs excruciating pain
And you bled to stop, feeble, powerless, un-aid.
Sufficated you motionlessly sat, impede, in halt, in paused,-still
And you look back at your wall
And found what was one stain was not one at all
There was once a frame on the left, right, above, below
Now it's all stained squares in yellow.
Some still hung a frame an image with out
And some picture and frame has left ashes on the floor.
Astound you grasp all the broken pieces of glass you can carry
The glass and images that you just tried to mold
And embraced it tight,
As you bled
And drained.. In red.
Yogyakarta.when what you believe may be false.20082013.
on the blog
words along the way.. sometimes only poetry can express reality..