Graffiti

Graffiti

Red—Listening to my drunken step-father yell

Being so angry, but having no one to tell

 

Yellow—being too afraid to runaway

Who would I go to, where would I stay

 

Green—Watching perfect families with perfect smiles

So carefree, why was I given these trials

 

Blue—The sadness, a deep well

The story I can’t tell

 

White—the emptiness of my life

The pain of the knife

 

Black—a dark cloud’s snare

A waking nightmare

 

Colors—swirling deep inside

Let me know I’m still alive

 

Colors—burning bright

In shadow and street light

 

Colors—my story at last told

My fear gone, finally bold

 

 

---

This was one of my favorites to write. Both because I dabble with painting and because I could relate to the intense emotions portrayed here all throughout my childhood. While I chose to let my feelings spill out on canvases that were in my possession, I can’t entirely fault people who find some sort of release in adding some color to a wall, even if that wall isn’t their own.

I don’t exactly condone it–I think people should respect other’s property–but I can empathize with the need to feel alive when inside feels dead and the need to create when everything around you seems grey.

Because graffiti ironically is done in a grimy alleyway or on a dingy train car, it is a perfect symbol for turning an ugly situation into something bright.

Just my thoughts…:)

What do you think of my poem? Do you think people should be  allowed to put graffiti on things? Did you ever sneak out and spray paint a wall?