walking through the hall,

my eyes fell on a piece of art,

a piece of art trapped by a frame,

a frame keeping it away from the cruel world,

and then i noticed that the art my eyes saw was not that of any kind,

it was one showing more than just meaning,

it was one that made me feel something,

feel the hollowness

the grief

the sadness

the mischief

and the damage was already done,

the damage was already there,

and the soul was already gone,

yet no body was aware,

and now there was no going back,

my eyes fell on a lifeless corpse,

my eyes refused to look not once but twice,

because every look sent thoughts of vice,

ones of which i do not want a slice,

my eyes fell on the frame again

what could possibly answer their question why?

what could possibly be a good reason to lie?

what could possible defy the reason of being?

what could possible change what those eyes are seeing?

those eyes sought anguish of which no words can explain,

anguish lying in the restlessness of being alive but in pain,

alive in a matter that is just yphysical existence yet you remain,

you remain in a world that is not thankful for you

and the frame was not one of a canvas board,

it was one of those reflectors of our outer selves,

it was a mirror reflecting a piece of art,