A poem. I'd describe what its about, but I don't even know what its going to be about yet. So far, its just an artist. Any critique would be nice. Hopefully I get more than usual because this isn't one of my "epic" poems...yet. I'm going for a creepy vibe.

The Artist rises from his seat, and confronts his latest work,
His demons live on this canvas, yet darker ones still lurk.
A new bottle is beside him, he's drank for all he's worth,
Candles burn brightly beside her picture on the hearth.

But the fire merely smolders, like the fire in his heart,
Hearts will always falter, but each will play their parts.
The curtains are shut tight, like the cap upon his drink,
Night gives birth to day, and he'll never need to think.

The extension of his mind leaves his mark upon the skin,
Bold strokes are screaming out, like darkness deep within.
Candlight catches his eye, but the windows are all closed,
A thought etched into his mind, his soul lies exposed.

His whole body's screaming out, how ever could this be?
We were supposed to be forever, now she's only just a dream.
She lives forever in his art, and is always in his mind,
Her voice still whispers quietly, in the past he is confined.

He has no tears just memories, as he walks up the aisle,
She was to wear her special dress, and he lost in her smile.
They were supposed to share it all, their happiness and pain,
He was going to be a father, but they were lost in August rain...

He walks without a purpose, his hazel eyes are closed,
Lost in thought he has no fear, with waves licking at his toes.
The sun sparks familiar feelings, but they're just not the same,
He has become just a coal from his once burning flame.
This post may contain my opinion and/or inaccurate information.

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Last edited by AWACS at Sep 20, 2010,
I don't know what it is, but I really like it. I agree with you about not knowing completely what it's about, but there's something about it that gets to me (in a good way). It seems to be about an artist (duh!) who is seemingly depressed, and is reminiscing about what used to be ("He has no tears just memories", "She was to wear her special dress", etc...) But ya, I like it.
I'm just like the Jonas Brothers,

I'm no longer relevant and write mediocre music.