Starry night 
portraits hung in empty halls 
frameless heads on nameless walls 
with eyes 
that watch the world and can't forget. 
Like the stranger that you've met 

the ragged men in ragged clothes 

the silver thorn of bloddy rose 
lie crushed and broken 
on the virgin snow. 
And now I think I know what you tried to say to me 

how you suffered for your sanity 

how you tried to set them free. 
They would not listen 
they're not 
list'ning still 
perhaps they never will.

Beautiful things.