The love that comes my way is always
always belated
coming already faded
and still fading like an chalk painting ageing in mist
I dry cried
and nobody noticed
when my heart cries
nobody feels it
but when my art cries
it is recognized
and you can see why
Because i feel in different colors
i apply them to a canvas
but my colors
not wanting to be recognized
bleeds as if a heavy bleeding wound in bandages
or
some times the canvas doesn't want to in hale the paint
it spits out and spills off 'Get at me later! '
my paint dont want to be painted with
my canvas dont want to be painted on
and now i just dont feel like expressing myself any more
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
''i dry cried and noboby noticed when my heart cries nobody feels it but when my art cries it is ercognized..........'' those are great lines. i really enjoyed this piece. nice work.