Note: If you registered before 16 October 2017 and have not yet done so please reset your password. Reset
We have switched over to a new website platform which will allow us to vastly improve the service offered by The Talent Bank.
My pain A painting of shame Upon these white walls of stature So statute, so still, motionless My heart bleeds but only tears fall As I portray this vivid pain A portrait So poor in trait As I pour out my heart Of all these techerous traits And yearn for what once remained A trace of love, Embodied in colourless contours Whilst I dry out this pain All I feel is this fear of fearing what I truly feel A feeling so clear But only clouded by pain, My picture, my painting my portrait, my pain
Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *
Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment.
This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.
Dreams, desires, id and ego.
This poem is about our failure to feel fulfilled by our constant consumption of life.
Read it and find out.