sitting in a room staring at the pictures on the wall, full of joy,
smiles as bright as the very stars
paintings which were made in a bout of inspiration,
face of a boy blue,
waterfall of water crashing,
two trees in sunset and snow,
hill pink with clouds fluffy and pink too,
paintings that were praised for their skill, although there was none present
and hidden behind them a poem,
one full of hurt that challenges their brightness
the true work of the artist, the true bearer of emotion
key to understanding their heart
hidden away never to be found, never read, never critiqued or questioned
never to be understood