Paint
I feel the mysterious paint dripping down like a cape
Containing the worlds lies that I thought I could escape
Masking the truth that keeps me from my fate
too much poverty, lack of care, and presence of hate
Mysterious paint sticks but it sticks like tape
maybe we need a calvary before it is too late
so we can change how we live to live in good shape
because evil has its color and the nation's greed is the paint
👁 1💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.