I added some more pictures to my previous art post! Be sure to check them out!
Tick, tick, tick,
The clock has stopped,
But time does not
Drip, drip, drip,
The water does not drip no more,
But the flood continues and does not
Thump, thump, thump,
The body may be dead,
But the soul's existence does not
Though, when something,
Does not persevere,
We all know that we need to go.
I look at you,
You look at me,
And we stare
We stare into each other's souls.
I see fear,
You see misery,
And we both look away
But we hold on a little tighter.
Our pasts were both dark, empty chasms,
With bits of optimism falling,
Both filled with clumsy, stupid failures,
Both filled with cuts, scrapes, and bruises.
But as I look at you and you look at me,
I realize that for the first time in my life,
I have not messed up.
On a scale of one to ten, one being horrible, ten being insanely amazing, please rate these paintings! Please excuse the quality of the images!
I am following the path of life
Not knowing where it goes.
Turning left and right
Here and there
To a different path that I chose.
The twists and turns are only there
To throw me off my course.
But I know better
Than following them
So I push past with force.
Little bugs fly busily
Buzzing loudly in my ear
Until they are the only thing I hear.
I ignore these little distractions
I continue down this road.
Not ever stopping
And I never will be slowed.
Because I am following the path of life
Not knowing where it goes
Turning left and right
Here and there
To a different path that I chose
As I stand in the midst,
In the midst of sunlight,
I see a speck.
I look and stare,
Examining this little black speck,
Trying to name what it is.
I walk closer to it,
Seeing it rapidly growing in size,
But it is still in the distance.
I chase it,
Getting even closer,
Until it wasn't just a speck.
It was a void of darkness,
Still growing as I stopped giving chase,
Eating up the sunlight.
Now I am part of this speck,
Someone sees me,
And I sense them.
Time to feed.
I am here,
I am a flower bush,
Roots firmly gripping hold of the earth beneath me,
My trunk strong and centered, stretching towards the sky,
With my branches and leaves growing outwards to meet the hands of my neighbors.
My buds are excited to see the sunlight for the first time.
Already existing flowers boldly stand out with their different, neon colors.
My pollen spread all around, landing little specks of yellow on other flower bushes.
I am a rain drop,
Falling and falling and falling quickly from thousands of feet from the sky.
The gray clouds above have dropped me and released me into freedom.
As I register this new feeling, fear fills my watery self.
The ground is coming in quickly, and I don’t know what to do.
I flash by in the air like all the other rain drops, but I refuse to show my fear.
I will not be the first to show weakness.
I am an antique china vase,
Sitting off to the side, not really belonging with the other vases.
My designs and postures are different, weird,
But I still love myself when others don’t.
I sit there uselessly while other vases are being filled with my owner’s objects.
Because I can’t take it, and if I was broken, I would break into a million pieces,
Never to be put back together ever again.
But most of all, I am human.
Walking tall on my two long legs and swinging my arms back and forth.
Making mistakes and problems wherever I go.
Trying to lessen other’s suffering by suffering with them.
I am so imperfect.
So imperfect to a point where I’m...
Because I’m only human.
I am still here,
I stand with my petals shriveling from brilliant vermilions and neon pinks
To muted beiges and ashen grays as time passes by,
Next to a sign so rudely piercing through my thin, delicate roots,
Destroying my life source.
Drooping my once proud head towards the earth from which I grow,
I feel the thick exhaust from passing cars asphyxiating me, poisoning me with its stinking fumes,
Taking away all colors until the world is covered in its sickening black clouds.
I feel my stalk begin to weaken and bend as the humans take away my nutrients,
My leaves becoming sicker, turning into old parchment paper with burns tracing the edges
My will to live decreasing as the land around me is being destroyed for the humans’ shelters.
Then the murderer arrives, its deadly sharp blades spinning dizzily,
Its roars to be heard from fields away, announcing dread and death with them.
I stiffen and count down my final moments.
It’s heading towards me.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
And now here I lie,
The life slowly draining out of my weak body,
Which is broken and chopped into little pieces
On the perfectly cut green grass,
As my delicate roots slowly die next to the sign.
The sign I can finally read with my final moments.
The sign that says “New houses, new homes, the beginnings of a new life!”
As I stand,
Watching the cars whoosh by,
And the humans observing objects around me,
I wait to be recognized,
To be seen for once.
Maybe its the shade covering me,
Or maybe no one wants to sit down,
But I am never noticed.
No, instead, I am overlooked.
As I am just a lonely bench in the shadows.
The gas of the passing vehicles chokes me
But I stay standing,
Fighting the urge to break down,
To turn into a useless pile of metal.
Then, a girl walks over to me
I am finally noticed!
She glances over my seat,
Gently taps me to hear her pencil ringing against my metal,
To hear my voice.
She ignores everything around her but me.
Then she leaves.
Now I am once again alone.
Just a lonely bench in the shadows.