after my dragon dropped me off
at my town
i run to my gallery
and make my way inside
what did my dragon mean?
my gallery was always
as empty as death
it has been
since the day that i was born
i decided to paint guards
and flowers outside out of it
so when you enter
your soul won't be as dull
nobody likes white nothingness
after all, right?
nothing is new
when i enter it
except a little something
a paintbrush version of
the man with horns,
in hand a rose,
one with lingering deadly thorns.
YOU ARE READING
artbook
Poetry// it's not something as mere as smelling colors and tasting letters, it's something like painting fish in the middle of the sky and drawing dragons in the middle of town. something like having the world as your artbook. \\
