These eyes, painstakingly painted, somehow still stare
Despite the daunting decades that
Taunt me, haunt me
Sketching the cruel concept:
“I could no longer be there
on display,
and with that, I’ll be dead. I’ll fade into the air.”
Though I renounced these notions,
time framed me a new truth:
“Pretty thing, you're already dead. Your gods do not care.
Some deem you pretty and steal mere moments of your day.
Maybe they take a photo, a second-long snapshot.
But most of your idols, they simply walk away.”
I look down at my gods, stricken with what time has said.
Silently, I plead
from my glass screen, “I don’t need your glory, I just want to be seen!”
And silently, they senselessly
shift their interest instead.
No interest in me, or any of my brothers.
And because of this, no interest in each other.
About the Creator
paint.pal
🌹”Cause here’s the thing
to know how it ends
and still begin to sing
as if it might turn out this time
I learned that from a friend of mine.” - ”Road to Hell (Reprise)” from Hadestown
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Compelling and original writing
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Heartfelt and relatable
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