This is a poem I wrote, which turned into a song... but since I don't know how to link quicktime files, I can't play it for you ^_^
His Face
Shadows cloaked
The man whose face
Could not conform.
Despised and scorned by men,
Condemned to early hell.
Did he choose,
This man, his face?
Distortion cursed,
It plagues his every glance
Upon reflection’s sight.
Look on him,
This man’s grave face
Which did no ill
To those who shirk and cast
Damnation on his life.
Watch him now,
The man whose face
Is no warped mask,
Despite attempts to pull
And rip off this façade.
Haunted gaze,
This man’s own face,
In cold eyes holds.
He yearns for more than night’s
Unceasing company.
Hearken now,
You man whose face,
Has cursed, condemned.
Awaits she at your door,
The girl who has no sight.
