PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I wish I was an artist. I wish I could paint.

But nothing seems to come out right.

So I try to draw with these words instead,

though sometimes it can be such a fight.

If this piece of paper was really a canvass

and this pen in my hand was a brush,

I'd splatter each color uncontrollably

I'd probably use way too much.

I'd throw on some blues and reds and greens

until you couldn't see canvass at all.

By the time it was finished it'd be such a mess

You won't want it to hang on your wall.

Because I'd show how much I hurt right now

with a painful stroke of grey.

And if you stare long enough at the thick black swirls

you'd understand what I'm trying to say.

Then I'd stick my hands right into the paint

and use them to really show my pain.

I'd smear the paint all over the place.

You'd probably call me insane.

My love for you, the scars on my heart,

It'd all be there for you to see.

My loneliness, my detachment from the world,

and everything that's happened to me.

I wish I was an artist, I wish I could paint

using yellow, orange, and brown.

And like every true artist I'd be willing to stand

naked from the soul down.