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Andrea Jul 2020
The colours have started to run
Mixing and swirling together
My brush crosses the line
Quickly retreats
This colour doesn’t belong there
There’s no way to draw it back
It’s too late now,
They are mixing on their own.

The colours are running
Mixing and swirling together
Endless supplies of paint
Dripping
Complete chaos ensues
My blank canvas destroyed
I drop my brush,
It has no use here anymore.

The colours have run
Mixed and swirled together
New colours created
Lines forgotten
Lines that held them apart
Forgotten by the new hue
I step back,
What have I done.

I am crying
Nothing is in its right place

It’s a mess

I’m a mess

My red blood runs
Dripping
Onto light floor
Blackness
Andrea Jul 2020
Bird
I am like a bird afraid of heights,
It is not the clouds I fear,
But the ground below.

The sturdy ground that comforts me beneath my feet,
Terrifies me from the sky above.

As distance and panic grow,
It’s strength becomes a brutal force,
Lethal if I fall.

On the horizon,
a mountain rises to meet me,
A place to land, rest and soar once more.

You are my mountain.

Mountain
I am like a volcano that surges forth,
Rising to contain the rage within.

Fuelled by hot lava, I grow,
Leaving the safety of my cavern.

I am trapped, between my hard outer shell,
and the molten rock within.

A little bird falters and lands on a rocky outcrop,
safe from the wind, then flies again.

The little bird does not yet know to fear the volcano,

You are my little bird.
Both sides
#dv

— The End —