• mirror 5w

    I write in italics, things that I think in puzzles,
    I mix up words and I try to fit them in,
    And I draw lines, and paragraphs I define,
    Only to join dots, and colour outside the figures,
    And not make any sense,
    Yet I keep scribbling and scratching,
    Round and round, over and again,
    Because my art has lost meaning,
    Every since I wrote your name.

    I juggle and struggle, in painting a happy picture of my face, on my face.
    I lose the pink and red, and I cover it up with white, and I over do the black,
    And it drips down my cheeks, every time I cry,
    So I rub it all in and run back from where I came,
    Only to succumb to the letters,
    That say your name.

    Happy faces have stopped making me happy,
    And faith has lost way in the dark,
    So I close my windows and lock up my door,
    And I rub the floors clean of every mark.
    The flowers are dead, the water is all dried up,
    And I'm suffocating ever since I chose to stay,
    So I curl up in my blanket, hoping for a miracle,
    Ranting incessantly, your name.

    ©mirror






    @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    Name

    Because my art has lost meaning,
    Every since I wrote your name.