Broken Windows

It has been said
that eyes are the windows
to the soul.
Two blue, peering slits
in the face of one person
can view every waking moment
of their indescribable life.
Yet what happens
when the windows become cracked
and eventually break;
little slivers of glass
dropping all around
one poor victim?
Those portals of life
now see nothing
but the dark, empty void
that exists only on the road to Hell.
Doctors may try to mend
the glass, by therapy
or god-awful medication;
until they, too, give up:
lifting up their hands
in an act of utter dispair.
They throw this poor victim
into a white-padded cell
that is about as safe as
lying on a bed of burning coals.
They do it for his own good
or so they say:
all the perfect, happy people
who have a home to go back to
at night.
It is in this cell
that the poor victim is forced
to do nothing but reflect
on a distant, beautiful life
that once may have belonged to him.
He is fed food by a spoon,
and words by a knife,
until he realises just what
everyone wants to hear.
He begins to lie
by saying he feels better.
He constructs new windows
with careful calculation,
making sure not to slip
lest they break again some day.
And when he is finished,
he is left with glass so thick
no thoughts, words, or emotions
will ever penetrate them again.
Not even a single tear
will find its way through.
Thus our poor victim is free
to wander around life
with a fake smile plastered on his face.
Every second of his life
is now nothing but a lie;
until his sick, dying soul
finally draws its curtains.


~J.V.Harker~
~20 December 2008~