Story of the Bare Wall

When the guardian of dawn leaves on his chariot

And morning light seeps in to the room

The shadows sidle to the corners

And he sits in the center of the room

Ripped denim jeans all he wore

Five’o clock shadow cast around his mouth

His gaze seem soften but his eyes are hard

Staring intently on the wall

Hidden behind the color of white

Are the photographs from past

He squints as his eyes adjust to light

Blurry images of red and gold

Playing with his mind

He tries to get up but he stumbles down

He sits and stares at the blank wall

Insomniac, disturbed and tenacious

What’s his story I cannot tell

It is a burned page in the book of history

His shoulders shaking he looks up for messiah

He looks up but finds not

The serene tranquility of ignorant past

So he picks up the bottle

And smashes it on the damn wall

Huffing he clears his face of sweat

He walks past towards the door

Towards the sunlight or towards his fall

Leaving a stain on the bare wall