streaks
first the mountains streaked with colorthen i go outside and the sky is stripedmy hands have smears of paintit is my cheeksthat make me wonderwhy are they streaked with tearsis it all these new things i am learninglike the colors hereit's just i never knewto cry so muchsome people say it's good but i don't knowit doesn't feel like progressand i call the mountainspleaseplease take me inso i can be with you
4 comments:
streaks ????
wauw wat mooi / schitterend
ik word hier zo stil van.
Your artsy insides are showing on the outside more and more.
(((Jozien)))
We can take your tears and welcome you down in the warm den of the sleepy warm bears at peace with winter.
Wow. Beautiful photos and a very powerful poem.
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