This is my observations of everyday, i get inspired.


6. The Art of Breaking

I was patient,

I waited,

You blamed me for all the things gone wrong,

Especially when the colours faded,

They used to be so strong.

When you make a painting its all freshened up,

But when you hang it on the wall the dust will lay,

Especially on the picture frame.

Its gone to deep, the dust has invaded.

I guess there’s no turning back.

It was valuable, but not in money.

Love was its price,

But if the love disappears the picture just hangs there with half of its heart,

And it will dust up.

The frame will turn grey, the colours will fade.

Now it has the value of a wilted flower.

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