The Sketch

The Sketch

Within two dimensions there hides a third,
ones true reflections are observed,
no lies exist when a visions heard,
for there is no death in a canvas world.

Hearts tormented lie in a pool,
eventually sinking with the other fools,
still grasping for what caused their demise,
love and passion without cold and wise.

Scratching emotions onto a page,
unrestricted by conformity’s rage,
colors bloom in black and gray,
attempting to express what you cannot say.

Within these visions lies a void,
for interpretations often destroy,
desires to express instead of hide,
the true relevance of what’s been confided.

Within two dimensions there dwells a third,
only acknowledged by the few absurd,
dwelling in expression not illusive needs,
never to capture the eyes of what seems.

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One Commentto The Sketch

  1. James says:

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