Hymn of the Soul

Clean canvas

Two souls

Exuberant passion

Unrealistic hopes

 

We painted our canvas with golden strokes,

Shine and shimmer of our smiles,

Our sprightly hands flowing free with care,

Not knowing the pain to come in a while.

 

Brush after brush. Day after day.

The old paint began to dry.

We covered the old paint and tried to hide it

with brighter gold that was only  a lie 

 

Temporary. Temporary. Temporary.

 

That paint began to build and crack.

Pieces falling from every corner. 

Those paint strokes we thought we could cover,

Only left us broken more.

 

Splattered canvas

No souls

Lost identities

Failed hopes

 

 

 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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