The Critical and His Horse

Flickering shadows on the walls Shaking scenes of desperation The crippled sounds Drowning all sensation Building excuses in his head The Critical waits for the end Praying nightly to no one Creating to himself a friend His horse was rightly dappled Shapely and coarse-haired Trailing a black mane With pitiful eyes as it stared The next night as the nurse departed His horse was golden brown Untamed and unbridled Moonlight upon its crown But finally the Critical passed His horses gone to green His lonely bed His walls so white and clean