Poetry Corner


The simplicity of my words are never heard.

The beautiful things I’ve said will never be read.

I open my mouth, and nothing comes out

and, I am in contempt with this,

...being an empty canvass.

I feel I’ve been writing with disappearing ink,

creating no record of what I think.

I am never seen because I am never heard.

I am invisible and so are my words.

I am invisible because I don’t look the part,

beauty in cased within a frozen heart.

Words and beauty fade away with age,

leaving behind an empty canvass; a blank page.

Even when there’s nothing left

I sing to the ears of the deaf

a beautiful song of hurt and a painful past;

a song of love and a bright future that will never come to pass.

I sing until my lungs are sore

though I know no one will hear my silent out-pour.

Because I look nothing like they hoped.

I am just an empty canvass; black page; silent note.

My skin is everyday brown,

my hair is the same as everyone else’s around

my eyes aren’t a rare color like green or blue

and my smile is nothing new.

They use my appearance to measure my soul,

therefor, I am normal; nothing special.

I am an empty canvass; I am a silent note; I’m unseen art.

I am a blank page; untitled; I am just another broken heart…