Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Little arguments

What are you saying?
What are you doing?
Why is your sky green and mine blue?
Your seas are purple and your land is drawn in musical notes
Your speech is whimsical and you dream in metaphor
Sometimes, we do not get you
Your gibberish
the world you create for yourself,
'Why? Show me one reason why.' He asked again
Art explains itself, she whispered as
She pulled him by the hand
away from the paint dripping canvas
left to dry
under May's sun.

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