The pill didn’t make you larger
The pill didn’t make you small
The heart lay battered
The heart lay bruised
Images of innocence lost
The pain remains
Turmoil, and pain
Resolute not
Heart lies broken
Colors to canvas
Therapy of brush strokes
Yet the pain remains
Down the rabbit hole
The walls go up
Can’t let them in
Only to be hurt again
Crumpled on the floor
Tears run freely
Still, the pain remains
The images vibrant
The vision clear
The tormented soul
Colors to canvas
The world to see
Embracing the pain that remains
Jan 25, 2025
Jan 25, 2025 at 2:57 PM UTC
The pill didn’t make you larger
The pill didn’t make you small
The heart lay battered
The heart lay bruised
Images of innocence lost
The pain remains
Turmoil, and pain
Resolute not
Heart lies broken
Colors to canvas
Therapy of brush strokes
Yet the pain remains
Down the rabbit hole
The walls go up
Can’t let them in
Only to be hurt again
Crumpled on the floor
Tears run freely
Still, the pain remains
The images vibrant
The vision clear
The tormented soul
Colors to canvas
The world to see
Embracing the pain that remains
I wrote this after reading an article from 2018, about a young artist, and her winning painting in watercolor that she titled "Frustration", but retitled later as "Brokin".
In the article, it goes on to say "She captured her raw
emotions from a bad breakup in her watercolour piece
Frustration. She painted a fluffy creature peeling out of its
skin to reveal despair and sadness. The canvas, she said, “is
my friend. It’s therapy and it’s a good way for me to articulate
my thoughts.”
This poem, is dedicated to her work, and what I see in her art.
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