morning, getting up whenever I want
females, they hate me. I can feel it.
cry my eyes out until my hands full of water wash my face
black like a bird
I hate to cry!
a plane speeding really fast far away
no one to call for help and being far away
1. How I Would Paint the Past
A novel with 1,000 pages,
ready to be opened; approached.
2. How I Would Paint Death
A promise rings that everyone wears.
3. How I Would Paint Love
A mother tightly holding her child;
two brothers standing side-by-side in the rain.
3. How I Would Paint Anger
A slow, painful cut that never ends,
hitting you piece-by-piece.
Getting hit by a car with no mercy.
1. How I Would Paint Life
A long road of darkness with a white dot
at the end of it. But the dark road is
really thin, black ice.
How I Would Paint the Present
Long strokes of the past,
a variety of color.
Treat each canvas, from start to finish,
as my last.
Freedom open doors no locks
Sadness tears of a broken heart
Jealousy pretty and polished
Determination aiming high
Grief getting through the hurt
Survival making it alone
Luck charms and clover
Happiness flowers and smiles
Love no pain just beauty
Death pitch black no love no hate
I paint I paint a colored picture
an old-fashioned picture is what you see.
I paint I paint a radiant color.
I paint I paint a leap of faith.
I paint I paint a lie about pie.
I paint I paint something red in the sky.
I paint I paint, sweet and glossy.
I paint I paint the poison inside my mind.
I paint I paint the squad sitting upon me.
I hear the cheers of girls, boys, the squad,
Just sitting upon me.
I paint I paint.
I love my other brothers.
1. How I would paint the future
A city skylight,
lit up by the moon
reflecting off of itself.
2. How I would paint happiness
The sun beaming,
3. How I would paint death
A huge black hole,
everlasting in space
getting wider and wider.
4. How I would paint nostalgia
My childhood home,
lit up in the night,
smoke coming from the chimney.
I would paint the good-ole-days ❤
raking leaves with my sisters and cousins
ready to jump in the pile in the fall
I would paint the good-ole-days
when the electricity would go out in the rain
eating frosted flakes outside on the patio
when we slept outside on the porch
me bringing tools to my dad fixing his car
sipping on my sippy cup
Painting the good-ole-days
when my mom is doing my hair for school
waiting for the yellow bus
an after school afternoon snack waiting at home
Oh how I miss those good-ole-days!
How I’d paint pride?
a traveler stuck on the road not asking directions
the kid in the front with their hand raised
How I’d paint longing?
a baby with their arms outstretched
the girl gazing out the rainy window
a book collecting dust on a high shelf
How I’d paint the world?
in different colors, with mixed vegetables
a bundle of string tied together
a rat trapped in a cage
desiring to be free
smack on the cheek
rushing to clean the kitchen before work
the interruption of a crying baby
Embracing wind floating in the distance,blowing away is the future but never predicted.
Long forgotten photos, Joy that has me reminiscing of happy times, uplifting spirits that keep me sane through times of pain, the good old days. Happiness I see through a clear window pane, stained but polished, wiped away like tears.
Death feels as though there is only darkness. When my eyes are open, nothing is in motion, only thoughts to be focused. In a hole, no light to shine as a guide, lost by sight. No senses to find, a lonely place. No feelings, but only one. I should say anger, but it’s sorrow. The thought of no tomorrow.
Love as a first kiss, shooting star to make an important wish, being entwined, separation. Not in my rear view, but a stop sign when I’m slowing down in time. It feels like a new life, or a wonderful night, a song sung by tunes in harmony, perfect in every line.
A lie as hurtful as a dying storm, resting in silence, forgotten in an instant, but remembered by experience.
She was the rock, house of no foundation.
Lonely, empty when she was not there.
No one to talk to when you are in pain,
no one there to call your name.
Death feels as though there is
only darkness when your eyes are open.
Nothing is in motion, only thoughts to be focused.
In a hole, with no light to
shine as a guide, lost by sight.
A good day that turns bad
in a matter of minutes. A figure
trapped in a box and the light that
you once saw now is the dark.
I would paint your soul exploding from
your human body and as you
fly away building new armor.
A new being with a voice in your head
telling you what just happened.
And there is no return; you will go on
every time you die and there is
nothing but eternity.
A huge black hole,
everlasting in space,
getting wider and wider.
An all-white background with
blood red splattered across.
A promise ring that everyone wears.