Artist

I once could paint with words.

Bittersweet, a power without a hero.

Couldn't even save myself. 

To speak up. Undesirable.

Don't hear me out, just, feel. 

Pain? No, nothing. 

"Just tell me what's wrong."

Do the tears surprise you? 

How about the silence?

The truth is a myth, a scary story.

I've felt the truth, and I've begged for death.

It's so cold when I'm alone.

"I dreamt of this fire.

In a pit, surrounded by wire.

And as I look into the flames,

I see what I desire."

Love, happiness, family, pain, lost, and loneliness. 

I fell in love with loneliness.

Happiness, guaranteed pain.

It seemed as if emotions were also required to be weighed down by gravity.

So what could hold me together?

A family. 

How naïve of me to fall for this premeditated trap. 

They did the job. 

Until time clocked in.

One by one, 

Everyone,

Every single one.

They left. 

Without a word.

Sneaking off with death.

Forever lost. 

So, here we are again.

Falling in love with loneliness.

I don't dare feel happiness.

By now, I know pain is right around the corner.

I grow numb, quiet. 

I won't speak of it. 

Showing? Not an option. 

I do dream of these feelings.

Burning inside, yearning to escape.

Just speak up!

I won't. 

Talk about what's wrong?

If only I could draw my pain.

And to think,

I once could paint with words.