this poem is a souvenir to my toughest times, when art was the only thing, i confined in myself.
Ever heard of the jury?
well, those are chapters,
Of my life and fate,
I blame the colour white,
I fall for black,
Peace is still not found,
I am still persisting as a colour devoid of happiness,
Some pastels, might affect me,
But the blues are a soul property,
I tried channelizing my energy,
the truth is ,
I never found anything,
but gray,
of realities deeper,
than the lost ride,
i exist in a world of nothingness,
picturing the holy bright,
fight as a treason,
capture as a case,
people blame identities,
i am seeking fir blame.
K.S
