Something Nice

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 12, 2017

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Submitted: May 12, 2017

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Something Nice

 

They gave me a piece of canvas,

A palette and some paints;

But something you should realize

Some kind of artist, that I ain’t!

 

What was I supposed to do?

Go paint something nice”,

Panic, well it grips me in

A crushing type of vice.

 

I look then at the canvas,

The colors I can use,

Doesn’t seem to occur

To simply just refuse.

 

My head is empty, no ideas,

I have not got a clue,

So I’ll just not think it out;

What else can I do!

 

I flick the brush into the paint,

The canvas I do spatter,

I’m not looking what I’m doing

As it really does not matter.

 

I’m going with emotions now,

Giving vent to what I’m feeling;

When I think I’m all done

The canvas sends me reeling.

 

A mess it is, make no mistake,

A smear of black and red;

A visual representation

Of what’s inside my head.

 

Nice it surely isn’t,

And I throw canvas to the ground,

I’ll jump on it and crush it

Until no trace can be found.

 

I’m really not an artist,

It means nothing, what I painted,

But that image lies inside my head

For my mind is surely tainted.


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