Moonless Delusions

[billy]

there's a poem in there but you've buried it under cliche.
try not to use cliche.
the end rhymes in many places feel forced and are predictable. beside the fact that the rhymes scheme is neither here or there. chose rhyming of non rhyming. a lot it could be trimmed away. imagine it's a bonsai tree. and you're just starting out with the scissors; use them wisely but use them often.

(Confusing? Do tell me the problems in it. And if you liked anything about it. And I don't mind harsh critique )

In a moonless winter night,
Standing against a weathered wall,
Below a lonely street lamp's light,
I watched, transfixed,
Shades of life being mixed,
On that dimly lit street,
As if it were a canvas, why as if, take it up a notch [it was a canvass]
On which my thoughts were painting, painted
Their art of madness,
With brushes of memories, wishes and fears.
In that moonless winter night,
Standing against a weathered wall,
The shapes I painted with my thoughts,
Saw them slowly coming to life,
Below that lonely street lamp's light,
And I stood watching, transfixed,
With Reality, illusions being mixed,
On that dimly lit street,
That had now turned into a stage,
Where a ghostly opera, was being played,
By shadows, of spirits strayed,
Shadows familiar, but somewhat alien,
Each from a different dimension,
Floating and dancing in an unearthly fashion,
In uncanny tones they spoke and sang,
Teasing and negating each other,
Though to my ears didn't reach their voices,
But they did, to my mind
Or perhaps it was the source itself,
Of all this artful madness,
Which went on rising,
Till the last moment,
Of that lonely winter night.
As with the first ray of sun,
The stage disappeared,
Behind curtains of reality,
I walked to seek in my world of light,
Some traces of truth and sanity.