walking the roads of singular sorrows ,taking with my hearts broken glass
scattering the pieces on winds of shallow breaths
hearing the  cacophonous  melodies,which harpies sing for lost souls
your words they drip,like wax from soft tallow candles
running there course ,leaving trenchs of memories imbedded in time
thinking back,through stained glass dreams
arranging the colors to suit my needs,tears they fall on marble cheeks
a hardend stone ,in stoic repose ...they drip on porceline memories
of a girl in a sea of malachite hue,treading deeper till surley should drown
staring at empty spaces ,these thoughts return
looking up to skies of fire ,raging as i do through time and space 
fitting the pieces ,of carnival glass to set for a table of ethereal ghosts