She lived and loved, her heart made of gold,
Her life a mess yet like a fairytale told,
She barely talks to a single soul,
Which makes people wonder why her heart is so cold,
She puts on a facade of courage and bold,
But only the moon knows the agony she holds
She feels her porcelain cheek wet with tears,
As she strives to fight her battles and fears
She began to paint the canvas of life,
With blood oozing from wounds, like a piercing knife
She dipped the paintbrush in the pallete of soul,
A hidden meaning under each stroke,
She couldn't tell the difference between black and white,
Couldn't see the difference between day and night
Her hands were tainted, her forehead holding a crease,
As she paid careful attention to her utter masterpiece,
A spectator viewed the canvas and said,
"honey that's not what life of one represents",
She said, "I am a painter and I paint what I see,
I witness a different life, through a different lens than thee"
YOU ARE READING
salt and sugar | ✓
Poetry❝ i screamed profanities to be heard by, but no one did so on paper i relied ❞ A collection that contains pieces of raw emotions, 3 am thoughts and gut - wrenching feelings. poetry // prose salt and sugar™ © lovetinted | 2020
