On days of excitement
I am as golden yellow as a star
shining just as bright
standing on stage
being alive once again.
Or maybe sitting on a bench
music in front of me
fingers floating across the keys
like flying with every note.
Just playing on the wind.
On other days
I am just a gray wash
almost invisible
scared and shy
with strings attached
I am a puppet of a person
hiding under a jacket
eyes on the ground
doing whatever I am told
looking for ways to shield
the real me from others.
Today I hope for a spark of that gold star...
GO AWAY gray wash,
I don't want you to be me anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Washed Away
Poetrythe first poem is a two tone poem. the second is a poem that is supposed to sound nothing like the author the third is my feelings towards Homework/projects at the time of it being written. The fourth is the opposite of the 3rd and the final one...
