I Give Up On Making Titles

I Give Up On Making Titles

A Poem by Unoriginaly Original

My words are splattered paint on the wall.
Pure, raw emotion thrown at a hard and unaesthetic canvas. 

For no heavens or any angels above blessed my hands,

No, I am no poetic saint.

But I am human. 

And my words are my colours. 

So write I shall. 

© 2017 Unoriginaly Original


Author's Note

Unoriginaly Original
Take it however you want, criticism is welcomed.

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Are there any poet saints? Maybe Bukowski. As far as I can see he did a lot of splatering both on and off the paper.
Great poem.

Posted 7 Years Ago

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 Added on February 15, 2017
Last Updated on February 15, 2017

Author

Unoriginaly Original
Unoriginaly Original

Milton, FL



About
Well, hello there. I'm Jewelz, a teenage writer with no ambition to become famous or known. Literally that. I write to write, I'm a passionate lover to music, I do what makes life enjoyable and ha.. more..

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