Controlled

I have wires in my head,
Control me for what I dread,
Even though for now my soul is dead...
I can still paint pictures,
Pictures sometimes worth a thousand words
That in this case, these words could be used to describe my burdens.
My work doesn't appeal to people in certain ways,
maybe my museum should only be open on dull days.

For now my museum is closed.
Not open to the public.
Paintings gone,
Torn to pieces,
But only left with a vague memory...
That sometimes when life hands you wires...
You should just choose the pills.
Because if you don't,
your paintings will forever be other ideas,
and not your own

Reviews

[Re-Pete]

This is excellent. Very honest. Great feeling. I enjoyed this.

[Vatsal Rohilla (account..]

Quite a nice poem there. The rhyming in the first stanza is very beautiful and lovely. Calling yourself controlled- and actually imagining that you have wires in your head which control you- is just well-described.
A good melancholy you have written there. Keep writing.