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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2085691
Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2085691
Critique of what having a life is all about
Down torwards a gloomy musty abbey

Down the corridors of brick and stone

There is a stained glass of a lonely soul

Who picked up wheat in the morning and barley at noon

Wrote papers at court and walked through the morning dew

At dinner he ate stew, up until midnight he drew

Drew a vast valley of oats and grasses

Mountains of tremendous heights

Caves with mysterious crevasses and depth

But in the drawing stood a man

Noble , cultured and miserable

No character, no wife everything but a life

As he views the mountainous scene

The rivers clean and the valley deep

He paused before he was to proceed

Looked down, screamed "hypocrisy"

One step down ,never to be found
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2085691