Melodramatic metaphors
To paint you an image
Which scarcely shows
What it is I feel

Chisel and hammer
Hammer through the stone
To make a figure
That figure forever holds still

I hold it in my mind
For the wind blew the clay
And the rain washed that painting
And all I have left
are those metaphors I mentioned

Melodramatic -
almost fantastic
For it is only the degree
Which makes it so far fetched

Hyper and static
I am frantic
Looking for something
In those metaphors I etched

You may read what's written on the wall
The paintings and metaphors of those who knew it all
And yet those metaphors they bear a flaw
For they don't reach that which is raw

A stroke with a brush
Or just a stroke of luck
If ever you saw
What I felt inside

A rhyme or a riddle
The strings of a fiddle
The deeper they cut
The more satisfied

The harder I try
The further I get
Away from words
That describe how it felt

The louder I shout
The dumber I am
Deaf to my emotions
My own emotions are my own death

Melodramatic metaphors
To paint you an image
Which scarcely shows
What it is I feel

Chisel and hammer
Hammer through the stone
To make a figure
That figure forever holds still

I hold it in my mind
For the wind blew the clay
And the rain washed that painting
And all I have left
are those metaphors
                      I mentioned