watercolor thoughts [completed]

ii | s m e a r s

Smears

My thoughts 

are stars that cannot be fathomed

into flawless constellations,

they cannot form a story like they

do in the nighttime sky, 

you cannot point a finger up and say, "

Look, 

there he is, 

Leo the lion, 

killed by Hercules." 

My thoughts

are a canvas of paints, 

chaotic, wild, without order, 

just a dirty mess of colors. 

My thoughts attempt to form words, 

but what are words when they are but 

smoke and dust 

from a delusional teen 

who believes

she is wise beyond her years, 

but really, really, 

she is someone whose words fall out unheard, 

trapped in a conflicted head. 

She is still but a child, 

still counting the stars, 

smearing her paint 

onto pale, pure skies.