this is what i wrote on 29th april '09 and im greived to portray the plight of the poor children in the war trodden zones in the world, for everyone of them these are few lines i write that describe a paint brush. You can resemble it the those kids.
I see it with my hued eyes
And swallow the poison with a deep sigh.
They dip me red, squeeze my sweat,
drown me, dry me, drench me again.
I scribe the posters and the velvet surfaces.
Make 'em dark, illuminate the faces.
Capture the breeze, hailstorm and the heat.
The scenic aura or the thunderous fleet.
It's time you understand my grief.
Gave my soul now time's too brief.
you applause me for the cause of harm.
Please rescue me from the emotionless palm.
They made me cut, swerve with diminishing touch.
The infinite reasons never seemed too much.
And all along there was a stream of rush.
All prevail the painter, who remembers the brush?
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