And It Breaks Her Heart

The Dreaming Trees

These shattered dreams and broken beams
Of sunlight shining bright
Imagination stifled, in honor of all that is “right”
Creativity no longer flows
From these fingers that not long ago were free.
Fires burn up the last resort to keeping our sanity.
Creators of this black and white-
no gray, no in between-
Marvel at disaster struck within this,
a once faultless city.
Paintbrushes filled with vibrant color,
Lying beaten and battered;
Each one is hopeless, lifeless here, amongst the floorboards.
Blank canvases filled with originality
Exist in this mind no more.
Vivid scenes of life haven’t a chance of evolving.
The priceless sculptures yet to be,
Uniformly gather into lines, awaiting being thought up,
Tossed out, forgotten.
Imagine broken dreams and shattered beams;
Sunlight ceased to shine.
What has life become, now that the dreaming trees have died?