An artist is not just someone
who can put a pen to paper
and paint an adequate picture
An artist is anyone
Someone who can
transfer thoughts and feelings
into something visual
something captivating
something so very relateable
but so very distant
you see, an artist doesn’t
build it’s picture for you

it builds a picture of them self

Our whole lives
emplanted
on the way we feel
eveything determined
by dreams that aren't real

His deep blue eyes
vanished
from underneath my gaze,
leaving me to
drown
in the empty nothingness
which was left
out of pity.

Once upon a time there was a girl.
In the summer she'd hold her breath underwater in the three foot pool. 47 seconds.
In the fall she'd look at the trees from the car window and wonder why she didn't change color with them.
In the winter her boots would get stuck in the snow just like the cat and she'd laugh.
In the spring she'd make potions with leaves, seeds, and sandbox rain water.

Once upon a time the girl was a little bit older.
In the summer the pool would be too small, she'd be too tall.
In the fall she'd become enthralled with girls and wouldn't think of the leaves again.
In the winter she'd realize not all children were hit and hated at home.
In the spring she'd fill herself with alcoholic potions the leaves and rain water couldn't touch.

Once upon a time the girl aged even more.
In the summer she'd throw her last scrap of childhood to the big bad wolf. He gave her a token.
In the fall she'd change like the leaves, but then the magic would leave. She'd lose the token.
In the winter she'd fall in the gravel infested snow. She wouldn't laugh.
In the spring she'd try to end it all with a potion of sleep and cool metal. It wouldn't work.

Once upon a time it was right about now.
I'm changing like the leaves, stuck in the snow, taking too many "potions". The whole time I've been holding my breath. 571,501,629 seconds.

My Love For The Words,
Is Over Shadowed By You,
Smiling Briskly,
You All Have Given Me Hope,
That The World Has Some Good Left