Crippled

Manicured mantle of emerald blades
withering under a winter's sky
turning honey hues of lethargy's limpness,
hinting at the crippled essence
decaying in the owner's hollow existence
whose desire castle they once proudly adorned.

He sits in the clutter of his fancy,
morgue climate dominating
its luxuriant decor,
insides turning cold and empty,
sullen spirit frozen without feelings,
life's flame nearly extinguished
the more his being
became beguiled by Midas' lusts.

Solemn seconds pass unnoticed
ears still hearing the echoes
of missing children and wife,
who fled love's death at the hands of greed,
unable to endure arms that grabbed
and were too handicapped
by a lack of ability to hug.

Sun burns the deadness the neighbors see
a golden brown grassy carpet
never watered or cared about
because their guardian
they once saw as knight
traded a fertile reality with tender winged spirits
cast aside his armor for a coffer of coins,
heart leaded down with stones of indifference.