Do you see the pretty colors,
masterpieces yet to be born.
Imagination full of wonders,
on a sheet just freshly torn.
Create a piece so wondrous,
to stand the strain of time.
A collection of great colors,
without any reason, need, or rhyme.
Molding a world of freedom,
with the colors on a brush
The brushes may be the actors,
screaming emotions at your touch.
A world free of pain and sorrow,
will be born between the lines.
Fingers dance across a keyboard,
poetry shall never be confined.
A broken heart is mended,
with just a dash of red.
A lonely desert replenished,
as the blues help it be fed.
A voice is in these paintings,
they sing words yet to be spoken.
Bring light into the darkness
for those who have yet to be awoken.
Art is refuge and expression,
the key to chains we bare.
The escape from dull reality,
no matter how its shared.
-Thoughts? Comments? :D Let me know what you think! Don't forget to ★!-
YOU ARE READING
A Dash of Madness
PoetryThe mind is a horrible thing to waste. Now when you have a mind like mine, where monsters come out to play and happy things come in bursts, it helps to write things down. From bad days to good days and everything in between I try to make sense of...
