Poem: The Mad Muse

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My muse
with clipped wings
swings her brush
from between the bars
of her cage.


Canvases
steeped in darkness
never to be seen
by anyone in the light.


An expression of madness
caused by too many voices
suddenly made silent
fair weather friends.


A scarred heart
only half healed
hidden away in order
to not be hurt again.


Her precious children
dripping with hope and courage
no longer for auction
no longer for promotion.


Perhaps if you are sincere
and don't arrive
just to leave again
you can see their colors.

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