Artist in the Asylum; a Cryptic Triptych.
PART ONE
I give myself a hug–
for it makes me feel warm.
All the world is soft
just like the clouds.
Surrounded by a blank canvas,
I feel so at peace.
If my paint is my blood,
They may call it genuine.
My coat is on straight–
Does the collar match the cuffs?
To the tune in my head
the sparrow sings dissonance.
They tied me down once,
as if to draw blood.
But the needle in my arm,
Drew only my words.
Then they took it away,
to develop a drug.
They gave me a drink
that brought swirling colors.
My canvas has become
a fireworks display.
At last I feel smiles
In the inside of me.
So the monster is on the page,
and I sit in my embrace.
If that sparrow doesn’t stop
I will blow up the tree…
The red paint on the wall
It only says “help me”.
{CK}
Part two on Tuesday morning.
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