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Description
Within that one shattered piece of soul you have left
There is no flicker of a tiny flame
Nor minute piece of moonstone meant to hang in the endless night you call your heart
Only an empty, yawning vacuumed meant to suck light in

No one left to blame but the reflection you are blind to
Gone is the hollow beating which you used to call Heart
As you stare out the plated glass in jealousy
Desperately wanting what the real people have
By which you have no name for..

"Mannequin" by ~betterthanNear [link]

Funereal tunes,
No sight required, you can feel
how hope ebbs away.

Nobody listens, no ear
attuned to those vibrations.

"Dirge" by [link]
Thank you,my poet!

The Artist is always alone with his Art (nobody can see through his soul and understand him the way he is,
and a lot less the original intention of his artistical conceptions); it can be a lot of society surrounding the Artist,
but with his art he lives in another mental dimension,like blindfolded...
He is always sadly alone (on his artistic mind) despite any social companion...

The Artist is mostly manipulated for a lot of social interests,
and mostly he becomes a phantom dresser, a mannequin, a puppet, who will be at Satan's service:
"Marketing" and their ups and downs...

So, that´s the way (more or less) the Artist´s life is, like one big vacuous...

An amazingly wise comment by my dear

Credits
room: [link] mannequin:flickr-Manneguins [link] piano: [link] birdcage: [link]
leaves:~the-night-bird [link] textures: [link] [link]

I'd love to hear your opinion about it..
I value every fav you give me,
even if I won't be able to thank
each and every one of you..
Thanks for watching my work!

So kindly featured by [link] and in by [link] [link] [link] [link] [link]

Thank you,my dear friends!

Description
Within that one shattered piece of soul you have left
There is no flicker of a tiny flame
Nor minute piece of moonstone meant to hang in the endless night you call your heart
Only an empty, yawning vacuumed meant to suck light in

No one left to blame but the reflection you are blind to
Gone is the hollow beating which you used to call Heart
As you stare out the plated glass in jealousy
Desperately wanting what the real people have
By which you have no name for..

"Mannequin" by ~betterthanNear [link]

Funereal tunes,
No sight required, you can feel
how hope ebbs away.

Nobody listens, no ear
attuned to those vibrations.

"Dirge" by [link]
Thank you,my poet!

The Artist is always alone with his Art (nobody can see through his soul and understand him the way he is,
and a lot less the original intention of his artistical conceptions); it can be a lot of society surrounding the Artist,
but with his art he lives in another mental dimension,like blindfolded...
He is always sadly alone (on his artistic mind) despite any social companion...

The Artist is mostly manipulated for a lot of social interests,
and mostly he becomes a phantom dresser, a mannequin, a puppet, who will be at Satan's service:
"Marketing" and their ups and downs...

So, that´s the way (more or less) the Artist´s life is, like one big vacuous...

An amazingly wise comment by my dear

Credits
room: [link] mannequin:flickr-Manneguins [link] piano: [link] birdcage: [link]
leaves:~the-night-bird [link] textures: [link] [link]

I'd love to hear your opinion about it..
I value every fav you give me,
even if I won't be able to thank
each and every one of you..
Thanks for watching my work!

So kindly featured by [link] and in by [link] [link] [link] [link] [link]

Thank you,my dear friends!