Colours splashed all over me

Perfected by smiles n’ smudges, there n’ here

With radiant light, my eyes sparkled

Hung to it, for its dear life was a teeny-tiny tear.

So why was I made to smile?

Just the artist’s artistic touch?

To merely give the art an eccentric look?

But to me, I felt fake as such.

But the loneliness inside me was true

The sadness caged in me was real

To be hung up on the dry wall, for years, for months

With none to visit me, none to heal (me).



No friends to share my sorrow with,

No painter to bombard on, my complaints

I stared at the dusty door which never opened

Cursing the window, which held the block of paints.

The only thing I hold on to,

Is hope, hope and only hope

When one day the door would slam open

And like a magic rope,

Some one would finally pull me out of this misery.