If brushes stop, Dreams are dead.

If brushes stop, Dreams are dead.

A Poem by Aurora (MC)



I suffer and turn it into a masterpiece,

But pain isn't an inspiration,

Instead the art is painful itself,

Hurt by the humanly demons,

That bleed through brushes on the emptiness of a canvas,

And my dreams begin where everything ends.

Suffering in it's mesmerizing beauty,

To make me feel, I am a person that matters.


Love is no less than the pain that rips you off when lost.

Since ever, the colors that danced in my eyes,

Ceased my heart into the loveliest dreams.

In the miserable melody of my songs of melancholies ,

Turning my droughts into blooming springs with each stroke.

But when I found my world in it,

It's slipping away from my grip like fine sand

And fading away in the heap of hopelessness.

I kept my wishes unwanted and secret,

Now they seem rotting within me.

I can smell them poisoning my blood,

Still I will keep them far away from being my needs.

Never let them crawl into my head again and again.

Couldn't care for my pain,

Just what I knew is to blame,

And imagine me dead,

If things don’t go fine again.


I was rightful to be happy,

And nothing worse than loneliness happened to me.

I am nostalgic towards the way I am,

Why I am the cause of all miseries?

Couldn’t trust anyone enough to tell what I feel.

“The little bird was afraid of judgements,

So instead of flying high, it clashed itself on Earth.”

To me, they are just painful screams and craves,

I don't know who else would have ever loved me

Or I wasn’t made to be loved.


No one understands why I fear,

Why I am choked with nervousness,

And my speech wobbles in front of strangers.

Can’t explain what exactly happens but I feel like,

Current running in my nerves,

Suddenly everyone starts staring at me,

As if they are laughing at me inside,

How should I explain this to anyone?

That’s just a miserable fear clenching my brain,

I feel like a tragically pitiful organism,

With earthquakes inside the lungs,

My head feels detached from the rest of the body,

And I simply can’t help that happening to me.

I pushed myself into isolation,

And that I felt right for me,

Just to avoid this feeling,

It wasn’t just submissiveness,

But a fight within me to save myself,

From self-harm and hating myself, that still continues.

I am not hopeless as you think,

Just I decided to be honest to myself once,

And see if I am broken somewhere.

I may be fragile  like glass,

But my sharp edges can rip your skin,

And bleed your fingers.


If I am made to live like this,

I won't survive with this pain for long,

I will die writhing and wriggling

In my unconsciousness

And one day I will be gone!

I could live starving, with an aching stomach,

I can survive for nothing else,

Can lose all that I have,

But only to accomplish my will to be an artist,

At least till my body degrades into earth,

Till I survive, I must live like butterflies,

Or I must die before anyone wakes up,

I must go to a deep sleep forever.

One day, if my brushes stop,

Dreams are dead.

© 2019 Aurora (MC)

Author's Note

Aurora (MC)
Hope you like it!

My Review

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Your poems are always full of honesty and are always unfiltered, MC, but quite often they seem like rants (Don't think too much of the word. It's just my opinion). But this poem is good on different levels. In addition to your usual traits, there is a measuredness here, an attempt to look at self from a distance and analyze a bit. Although I think you are a bit worried about other's opinions of you, or what you think they think of you. It shouldn't really matter, and I hope you will make peace with this sooner rather than later.

But this piece, although a bit morose and morbid, has a charm about it, I feel. Not only have you talked about your pain, but you have also shown how it manifests, how that's both good and bad.

What you said about loneliness... I think loneliness is the worst thing that can happen to someone. The void that develops within, the detachment felt, a lack of feeling anything; it takes a huge toll on the mind. As long as you are willing to allow people to cross the walls you are erecting and meet you face to face, things will get better. Going in a shell and using art as an outlet will only drive you further into a corner, I think. Art is powerful, but face-to-face communication, interaction cannot be paralleled.

I've always felt you have not just a fire, but a burning volcano within you. Use that to steady yourself, and put yourself out there more often. There will be stumbles and disappointments, but when something clicks, it is worth it. :)

Sorry if THIS felt like a rant or a lecture. I somehow went on and on.

Posted 4 Months Ago

Aurora (MC)

4 Months Ago

I don't expect it to be a pleasing poem, most of my poems are not. A thing written in anger and hate.. read more
the second verse on the fifth line you put a 'D' instead of a 'T' in though. it's good, relatable on many levels.

Posted 5 Months Ago

This is brilliant. Your artful word-crafting is strong & also your life observations are sharp & well-expressed & knocked my socks off in places. This reminds me of what I've learned from depression . . . you can't fight it away. You have to love it & accept it & learn to live with it & make friends with it. This is what I see your narrator doing, making friends with the darkness. That's the crux of learning to live with any ongoing illness, whether mind or body (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

Posted 5 Months Ago

I can't contain the emotions.It was really heavy and I got slayed to the core. Those bold line were so deep and powerful beyond the context. It made me sad

Posted 5 Months Ago

Aurora (MC)

5 Months Ago

Thank you for the review, I am glad you could relate it.😊
But my poems aren't to make peop.. read more
I'd lose the bold text. It doesn't help.

There are typos... 6th line, begin not begins.

Posted 5 Months Ago

Aurora (MC)

5 Months Ago

Oh! I will work on that,
Thanks David.
This is undoubtedly the best poem you've written, at least in my eyes. The words were detailed and expertly crafted, like a portrait. This ability to be truthful about how you feel shows strength. There are a lot of amazing lines with power and emotion. This one is my favourite:

I may be fragile like glass,

But my sharp edges can rip your skin,

And bleed your fingers.

The whole first stanza was amazing. But you didn't let up. You continued to show that every word in the poem breathed life. I am happy that you have become such a master of understanding your emotions. Also, this section of your life without art won't be permanent. It is temporary. I lost my ability to write songs, but you still know how to make art. It's just that you have had that taken away temporarily, rather than permanently. Get through this tough section of life, and you will find the sun on your back in the morning.

Posted 5 Months Ago

Aurora (MC)

5 Months Ago

Can't explain how it has been a part of my life since ever, but I have realized it when I lost it .... read more

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Added on April 14, 2019
Last Updated on April 15, 2019


Aurora (MC)
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