yet now he is a man of tears,

For he lives his miserable life

 as a falsehood, year after year.

Sorrow has now become his partner

 in his one dimensional life,

for he leaps through paper illusions

 filled with imaginary strife.

 His dreams have deserted him

and his hope is now almost blind

for a spirit of darkness has assaulted

 and raped his fragile mind.

This life that he now lives, is cruel at best,

And still with tears in his dying eyes

He clamors but for just one taste of its former zest.

 For this life of his has lost all of its meaning,

 and trapped within these white walls, he continues…

and continues his silent and unheard screaming.

And there in the corner by the windows glass pane,

 still lies the remnants yesterdays yellow stain,

for it was there, through the window

 he attempted once more to simply dream.

Yet he failed in his futile attempt,

 and it was here he relieved himself

in uncontrollable, and muted shame.

For he is a prisoner of another time,

and what was, no longer is,

with nothing being as it seems.

Yet still for his crime he must pay,

Because in this world his,

No one is permitted to dream.

J. Allen Wilson © 2004