An Emerging Shadow

I was a shadow, bereft, envy lent

its lance too. My eyes grew dim from

loss and achieved little fame -

only that within four white-washed

walls.

Pictures come and pictures go and I

am no longer a shadow. My past is

gone, yet wounds me daily. Love

flickers here and there, but my

Dread remains, ensconced within

the hardness of the white-washed

walls. For they remain and tinge

my insanity.