The seasons come and pass by you and me
Hoping you would turn and run back directly
But seeing you grow more and more dim
I decided to be able to love you is a dream
The dancing wind left the leaves scattered
As I looked at you, my heart adored
Silently, I sneaked small glances
I looked for you even in distant places
The sentence of spring is bright yet pale
But your smile is lighting up the dale
And I was there waiting for colors red and blue
While I sat, painting pretty little pictures of you
To the one who never noticed
Is it me or will it go unpunished?
The mixing hues of gray and white
As I painted your fading blithe
Your eyes are sad yet your smile is bright
I stared at you hoping prayers come to light
You noticed, yet you didn't comprehend
I was left with none being said
As I sat by the windowsill of mediocrity
I remembered the times I stood by idly
Then I thought about the times I looked at the view
I got my pen and started painting pretty little pictures of you
Then time became my immediate answer
I fell beneath the chains of hurtful slumber
Yanked the wheel before hitting the tower
I lost myself as I sunk deep under
I tried to find the happiness within
But darkness has swallowed what is not grim
I tried to make sense of this useless dream
Where I was living out that conscious scheme
And suddenly, the sky is painted blue
I looked around and realized the world is anew
In wonder, I got my set and started drinking the view
And soon, I am painting pretty little pictures of you
But then, beautiful things started to end
I woke up to the reality of this hell-send
I looked and saw the horrifying truth
That I have no time left but sickness' fruit
And what do people do when their breath is counted?
They write their souls in papers unprinted
As I placed the final dot on the letters last
I thought of something that is really a must
I took the last file I could find
Tucked in those little pieces I will leave behind
Hoping you would find this before I depart the world askew
Before my breath runs out and my time is due
I hope you find out that I have loved true
All the time, remember me painting pretty little pictures of you
That was sad. Even I was affected by my own poem. Fifteen-year-old me, what are you thinking?
This is a poem I didn't know I wrote but it's here.
So what do you think? Comment below. :)