A crying portrait

It's mope-ish but pretty cool I think

I sketch a portrait

But all it does is cry

It cries for color

"Please . . . it's dark here"

it continues to speak to me

"But it will look horrible, I'm not good at colors"

I plead

"B-But please" The portrait Cries

the lonely voice rots away

as I erase this imperfect art

I erased a part of myself

I treasured dearly

I go outside for the fresh, gentle air

only to breathe the stench of piled corpses

I hear my garden singing in this decaying atmosphere

I smile as I walk by

The petals are so pretty

I sniff these flowers

I then pluck each of these angelic flowers

Such Beauty of color

Should not exist for my enjoyment

I retreat back into the comfort of indoors

hoping these flowers will help me be happy

I sang to them in joy

Only making them wither

drying up in the cold

my smile fades quickly

"What's wrong...?" I say

with it's last breathe it whispers

"We. . .We can't be with someone like you..."

They turned into blue dust in my hands

I sob as the sun goes down and color fades

that lonely night was long,

I sat on the floor,

Lungs filled with locusts and wasps

like an exodus

Finally...

I sketch again,

The phantom seeks peace.

it speaks to me again

"I . . . want color"

I spoke in a quiet raspy voice

"I'm sorry...I can't"

"I hate you, you're a dull person"

...I erase another imperfect art.

I'm sorry I can’t do color . . .

Reviews

[Unspoken poet]

This is really good. I enjoyed this write a lot. Very well written.