Poetry:

Torture of a Selfish Creation

In my dreams of grayed morrows, a beautiful figure with inaudible lips borrows
Pain from what will become, and endlessly from hopes once realized.
Motionless my eyes trace into the darkness with yellow lit droplets upon my face.
The street lamp through my window brings the brilliant radiance of sorrow. ... Now, ‘Open Your Eyes!’
The silent voice moves her lips, flowing fragments to criticize ...

Like the lucent street lamp, she casts a dim light and yet gives birth to my slumber in the shadow’s flight.
Nostalgic songs of love once remembered, now flow away into her eyes; images dancing poignantly materialized.
I no longer have my given faith, all I see is this melancholy wraith
With a smile full of lies, she whispers my demise
Now... Never... ”OPEN YOUR EYES!”

Thomas McDonley
‘02