Painting Poem by Emmanuel Ziwa

I am a painting.
Run over by colour on every bump.
I am a painting with light dimming not a spectrum of secrets only the lovers know.
A representation of pain, time and sacrifise lying on a wall.

I am a painting centre stage in a gallery watching my artist watch me.
Watching the paintings behind him watch me
The emptiness in his eyes dawns me,
The reflection in his eyes shocks me,

I am a canvas suffocating in the abyss of nothingness praying for completeness.
Frustrated, with all thats left in me i scream, 'Paint me! Paint m-'
He picks up a brush and dips it in his finest paints.
Right as the colour is about to consume me
He drops the brush and stands back,
Picks up another brush and paints me in a colour he's never used before

He steps back and smiles-his proudest work
I am a canvas painted white
My artist left me to decide.