Blackened Thoughts


The tip of my brush dips into the
Pot of thick black sticky paint
To smear across my face and
Skin and flesh, blocking out
Everything that causes my
Paining heart to cry

Is death a

I paint some more.


5 thoughts on “Blackened Thoughts

  1. Absolutely spot on!!
    I’m feeling the very same most of the time nowadays, & it seems bad days are more and more frequent.

    I love how you address the stuff that ‘doesn’t get discussed’.

    A deep and dark poem.
    Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

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