You want to see the world through their eyes thinking they make things beautiful.
You urge your dreams to be full of strokes.
Maybe they’ll target a stranger's soul.
Where is the thrive. Where is your art.
Enchanting jealousy.
A reflection that you never got talking.
The boy and the artist.
I shout in every notebook I find thrown around.
People insist in calling it art.
I call it yesterday's stories.
You are the boy that lost his art. And i am the artist that's been told too many lies.
- Author: Ani. Is. (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: March 28th, 2023 04:43
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 11
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