Undefined Poem by Iris Mista
Undefined
That little drawing pencil of life
sneakily photo shopping whatever
I did not want to see
After using it too often
all the colorful ink was spent
to brighten up the deep dark pictures
stored in the abandoned corners of my brain
until it left me with nothing else
than the desolate opaque reality
of gray out of black and white.
April 17,2013
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: depression
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Complex PTSD
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/16/2024 2:06:34 PM # 1.0.0.1119
