The brush on,
My skin it felt,
Life needles,
Being pushing into me.
Your strokes are,
Lost in your pain.
As I am painted on.
Feeling as you wish for me to be,
Your canvas,
For now I'm painted red.
But later on I will be painted,
On again.
Only to feel your sadness
From within.
Of the hurt you try to hide.
Your paint your story,
Because you don't wish,
To speak of the hurt you feel,
I once knew what it felt like.
But now,
Let me be your open canvas.
Author notes
http://psychosomaticc.deviantart.com/art/Think-Different-80978112
A contest entry
- Quickie # 7 of 37! by Beautiful-N-Broken.
400 points, ended November 10, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What do you think?
Comments
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Another great write in this contest. Thank you so much for entering my contest and giving me the oppurtunity to read this. Good luck in the contest and in all you do.
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Great idea.
Painting one's pain onto another one's 'canvas' - almost as if the painter is trying to change or manipulate you. I think we all try to be open canvasses for other people, or perhaps more of an open book.
However me; if someone tried to paint me a colour that I'm not, they'd soon know about it - and so will the neighbours, lol!
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