Shattered Window






Shattered Window

Shattered Window











Should I sit before

Thee, to feel the rays

of sunshine, cast upon

my weaken heart,

or taste the bitter cold, and

angry rain you pour

into my mind drenched in



The Raven, black and winged

perches there awhile and

pecks at insects, that linger in

the crevices of cracked and

blistered wood, cast with

cobwebs left by black widow

spiders kill.


The windows shattered glass

reflects the fire in the hearth,

recalling years ago when

its warmth, kept our innocence

of sensual pleasures beneath

it’s flickering light, that licked

our naked bodies with heat for

one another’s daring boldness

and caress.


The window has grown old,

with frame and pane of bent

scars upon this room, torn

from the years of long ago,

when children frolicked

outside its walls amongst

the red and yellow flowers so

plenty then.


Yet now,

Depression sets in,

and cast its ugliness upon him,

while he lingers under a spell,

that it put upon his defeated

shell, he hates himself for

being lost in comma by a

trauma sent from hell.


Will he ever awaken from?

his twisted past and find a

shining lamp to lead the way

to safety, or does he find

himself inside a mirrored

reflection of his beautiful

mind, now lost forever in

the darkest cavern of

swirling mist, hugging

the shoreline and lifted

by the tides rolling in

from a mermaid’s breath.


© Copyright Vincent Moore . All Rights Reserved




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