"Painted Faces" - Poem by Evan James

evanjames (54) in poetry • 7 years ago

Painted Faces

Each morning I wake—
To a bucket of paint

Beside my bedside
Where it has lain all night.

From heavenly slumber,
My body emerges,

And thus sound
The ominous dirges

For the death of myself.
The bucket mocks from the shelf.

And I reach for a brush,
With no care for the shade,

And splash its contents
Soft on my face—

Some days a flaming Crimson,
On others ocean blues,

Some days the joy of sunrise,
Or the brown of a noose.

This is the fate of my face,
For the world lacks grace.

I must hide who I am.
They will never understand.

Check out some of my other work! And check out who I am!

^{Photo Credit: Free-Photos}

poetry life writing depression poem

7 years ago by evanjames (54)

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2 votes

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poetry-inspiring (41) · 7 years ago

Hey, would you be interested in allowing me to post your poem on my account? You will be given complete credit for making the poem. Also, you will receive 25% of anything made off of the post (25% of the SBD). If you are interested, just let me know!

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steemitboard (66) · 7 years ago

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