The Nostalgian.

A once-king sits on an aging throne.

He’s too blind now to see he’s alone.

In this castle of glass, its people are gone.

And a king without friends might as well be a pawn.

He speaks to no man, left with only a shrine

To days gone by; an asylum of his own design.

What was once about his sentimentality

Is now a guardian, a shield from reality.

A once-star rests in the dark of his room.

Crashing and crying, as he starts to feel the gloom.

His palace of sentiment, long past shared.

He asks time to stop, but time never cared.

He speaks to no one, left with only a screen.

Scrolls for miles and miles, through captured feelings.

Surrounded by images, videos, and relics,

Left with thousands of notions and nothing to relish.

“I tend not to live in the moment anymore.

Caught in my hands, I lock it away to be awed at.

Kept in jars, in frames, in the corner of a cave,

I watch them twist and turn, I watch them change.

Astonishing, the sea change from moment to memory.

The rose-tinted glasses fall to the floor.

Waves of remorse and regret wash over me,

I’m the Nostalgian with no one left to remember me.”

They say that pictures are worth a thousand words

But no image is worth never seeing the world.

A once-love is stuck on his heart and soul

She wants to move on, he has no control

“My new darling is out there, I just need to find him

But first I must let go of you, my eternal Nostalgian.”