Welcome to the old art house on the new hill,
Inside you find an empty canvas and a brush of tranquil.
You take a seat and scope the wide window of a magnificent view.
So why, In a field of flowers, do you paint a dead Autumn leaf?
You have a vision so vast but focus on the brief.
In front lay a pallet of bright colours from yellow to blue.
So why, In a rainbow of colour, do you paint black?
You have all the tools you need but choose to put them back.
The housekeepers have spoken, they want you to go.
They offered you assistance but you replied,
"No."
YOU ARE READING
Broken Souls
PoetryA collection of dark poems I have wrote in regards to various mental disorders, as well as heavy life problems including substance abuse, violence and poverty.
