Lost

There he sits,
his eyes staring aimlessly into space,
his skinny body hunched forward,
a cigarette hanging on the edge of his, 
dry, parched lips. 
He has no idea, 
he remembers nothing, 
nothing about anything. 
Next to him, 
lies a broken guitar, 
the wood burnt and broken, 
the strings torn to pieces, 
the colour hardly visible. 
In front of him, 
is a blank canvas, 
and around the canvas, 
are colours in different sizes and of different types. 
He now trembles, 
and tears begin to fall. 
A painful cry escapes from within him, 
and he weeps, staring at his hands, 
which hold a paintbrush, 
and a guitar pick. 
He has no clue, 
he has no clue where he got lost, how he got lost, 
and as the cigarette grows smaller, 
he tries to remember the way back home, 
back to who he used to be, 
but he ends up staring ahead aimlessly into space, 
frozen in time, 
unable to realise that it is too late, 
it is way too late...