When all their whispers stuck on me
like webs, and let thoughts crawl over
Now I have taken a step back
and switched my eyes to glass
and they still whisper words that sting
into the night, it seems, everyone is
painting pictures using people as paints
and ears as their canvas.
-what is the art in that?
I have already lost it I am
already broken so
what are you painting for?
I think there was a lesson to learn
I think that this is it.