In my house i sit and stare
of a blank wall my room is so bare
I pick up a paintbrush and clear my mind
what comes out im amazed to find
the colours i see the sound of the paint
the swish and swash, it looks so great
i paint mountains with peaks
and fish swim in creeks
you can almost smell the flowers
in the meadows and rain showers
i paint a family so happy and free
having a picnic under an oak tree
they chase each other and run a muck
the father caught the son, oh what luck
i wake up from my dream, smile so big
untill i realise oh so quick
that cant be my family where torn apart
what a day, what a great start
i stare at the wall, it still looks bare
it stares at me so un aware
of the thoughts i had to change its life
i will get some paint and start tonight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Aw wow. The last lIine hit hard. I laughed actually. That's not to say I did'nt sympathise. I often laugh where 'I should'nt'. Maybe it's just me but it has a certain degree of procrastination in it. And that desperate hope that keeps you alive at the same time. I don't know...black humour.