With a heart-broken
many times, enough to leave spaces behind my rib-cage,
a heart wide-open.
Have you met me?
With a brush and paint,
Trying to see the world through a grain of sand,
It’s sad,
for they maim my aim to be greater than my dad
who claimed that to be great you have to lookup
perhaps to some lad who sings or raps.
Would you buy my story?
If I painted my picture of pain with blood
Would you touch me? or hug me?
and look at me when I’m above?
For most often than not,
I slouch dead on that living room couch,
Choking in the river of my thoughts,
Feeling like that one drop in the ocean,
that no one noticed,
wishing one day my canvas will fold the earth,
and carry me to places,
where you can look up to me,
when I’m up above.
This is Lucky’s Poem. Click on the provided names below to view other Notable’s content.
Nature Raul’s Poem
Borner Bes’s Poem
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