What are you

but the puzzle

finished

What are you

but the pieces

fixed

What are you

but the glue

set

What are you

but the nails

driven

What are you

but the clatter

broken

What are you

but the frame

falling

What are you

but the glass

reflected

What are you

but the drawing

dead

Drawings and pictures

smile

frown

cry

laugh

, but the prints

littered on the

wall

do not

They stare at

me with

hollow expressions –

forgotten and dead

slipping into the

plaster walls

All their sound,

all of their laughter

and sobs

dimming and wilting

into the walls,

fossils of forgotten

times

All of their time

and nothing leaving

soft echoes of color

on the plain

walls

Gone and here

they stare

and watch,

and see

the furniture move

and pictues fall

and the night

come without

dawn

What are you

but the match

striking

What are you

but the flame

crawling

What are you

but the embers

falling

What are you

but the pictures

themselves

What are you

but only the

living dead