What Comes From a Paintbrush

December 23, 2008
By Samantha Willett, Welcome, MD

A tear a drop a living thing
It sparks to the smallest wing
I feel her smiles her linger her heart
They scream to him the joys they start
Because her eyes they steal his soul
The things she’d kill to control
So now I am dead left to despair
The wind only lingers to thin air
I hold out my hand to hold nothing
Even though… She was only bluffing
Light and dark sins and rain
No matter all ends in pain
I cry one day and the next smile my best
If they could only see through the biggest test
I stand with this brush and paint my walls black
While I think of the things I always lack
Love, life, laughter
The pursuit I am always after
But tomorrow it will be okay
Because tomorrow is another day

The author's comments:
This one was easily inspired by me painting my room! But, yes, it is sad. Most of my poems are. That does not mean I'm a sad person, just expressive. Please comment or email me if you have anything to say or ask. Thanks for reading

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