CatSnitch

These are random thoughts from past creations, current and future ones. I don't have much rhyming poems, that's why these are proses. Like an open diary for someone, or thoughts shared to a friend or a mere stranger I pass by.

Note: Some of the pieces here are published in other platforms.

Bin of Proses, Thoughts and Short Stories

The more I tried to put an image in a blank paper


The shadows are black and the paper is smeared


A hand that does not know where to begin nor knows where the end is


A mind floating from the vastness of the sea


I can't seem to see the beauty in an image tried to be created in a canvass lost


I cannot seem to see the light in every stroke and every touch


The darkness engulfs the world once lit up and full of radiance all around


The colors started to fade and one by one, all the pages scattered


All are broken like the hands that once loved them


The sadness hasn't created much of a good thing


The books also started to make me feel guilty of a crime I so admit


My despair almost complete but never done with


I can't seem to see the image in the paper I tried to fill


I defiled it by my passionless and hurting strikes


Like a whip, I hurt the blank pages with my ugly hands


Holding a pencil, a paintbrush or ball-point pen


All the colors have drained and I barely see what I have given to these blank papers


And it hurts, it hurts to lose the one thing one of my hands can do


It hurts much more that I caused it to be


I listened to muffled cry of the sketchpad and the surfaces of which my hands touched


An agony in these tears that slowly trickle down my own cheeks


I can't seem to sketch and draw the beauty I once see here


An Artist's Agony