Scrapheap Poetry.

My voice was once a song.
My words were poetry in motion.
My heart was flooded with love
as deep and as wide as the ocean.
 
The horizon of hope and desire
was reflected in my eyes  
as a golden globe of fire
In multicolored skys.
 
My voice is now a whisper
My words, an under water scream.
My heart a broken rock
The horizon, a mere dream!
 
My eyes reflect grey skys
cloudless, dull, empty, cold.
My ocean is now barren land,
dry and cracked and old.
 
Beneath this flesh and bone
my suffering soul is trapped.
My scribe of love,
rendered worthless!
Met by blind eye and deaf ear
crumpled up an scrapped.