Prismed Face: An Abstraction
*Please note:
I'm not in the throes of sadness. Just a write for another poetry site.
~~~~~~~~~~
My eyes are half closed for I fear to see
what worry and anxiety have made of me.
All day I've been twisted out of shape,
wincing at my disheveled appearance.
Life has taken a toll with its interference.
My mirrored face is a prism, a color spectrum,
reflections that indicate the paths I've traveled.
It's no wonder I look completely unraveled
and seem to be moving in opposite directions.
I'm an abstract work of art, hastily brushed
with my own hand when I'm feeling rushed.
Blue when sadness tears my world in two,
Cadmium yellow on days when I feel mellow.
When heated anger tints my soul, my cheeks
flush with shades of red and buff. It's been weeks
since I've felt bold enough to paint with oils.
Misfortune leaves me feeling like used tin foil.
I must pull myself back together and gather
my thoughts. Untwist the ropes that tether me.
Too many worries have crisscrossed my face
and spying eyes I've come to intensely despise.
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