Paint was something
I used to see as
an expression of art.
Something to create
beautiful pieces with.
Nowadays paint covers my face.
Rainbow colors are hiding
my sleepless nights
and the tears I cry.
All the hurt,
all the pain,
gets covered by make-up
and a fake smile.
But somehow no color could reach
the inner of my tired eyes.
They stayed black.
And the stayed empty.
- a reflection of my soul
YOU ARE READING
Wondering
PoetryThis may be burning, crashing or hurting. But these are my words. This is me.
