Silver

Suffering nostalgia,
dripping from empty eyes,
pooling in half-moon crescents against ivory cheeks.
Listless sight,
no fight or need for life.
Perfectly content to sit and stare.

Waste of space,
they chant,
waste of life.
So living like a corpse,
continue not to feel.

Continue not to see.
Pretend not to care.
Living like the dead,
watch the silver drift out of unused eyes.

Life silver,
silver of hope,
silver of love and kindness
and the prodigy of God himself.

But like everyone else,
pretend not to see.
Watch with closed eyes,
the silver drift away.