Library of Paintings

i crouch within the stories
of those that lived and those that
didn’t.

each an escape to a reality, 
whether famous or untold
whether a figment of imagination,
or a retelling of the truth.

the poetry in neatly-arranged lines,
rhyme scheme, meter, iambic pentameter;
dystopias of foreign, apocalyptic worlds
Atwood, Huxley, Orwell;
and romance, the love that blossomed
between two people, real or not, dead or alive
it truly is:
life on paper.

the character is a canvas to which
the author’s emotions are expressed
in freed brushstrokes.
 

rishi_jraman256

NC

15 years old

More by rishi_jraman256

  • forsythia

    and tetrad petals are words—
    written on my branches,
    poetry i write on rainy days
        each burst of amber blossom,
        a sad metaphor—
    flowers break when i hear
    “you used to be so talented”
  • comatose

    set fire to the 
    redwoods of my mind
    let copper ribbons 
    taper into nothingness,
    bury the forest’s 
    bones into earth-sunken, 
    sacred ground—
    they say tears are
    catharsis,