Colours

I want to act like them colours

on the tip of the paintbrush

-When too much paint it drops

and fall, randomly fills the canvas

It could become anything

Possibilities are infinite

-The matter what it holds

unfolds, depicts a lost second

Shows perfectly a stolen

moment- When out of control,

that drip of paint

alone- separated; conquered a patch

Falling through the fabric of time

Leaving outlines and depth

What your see is up to You

Your angle/ view always changes

-The colours can fade,

depths could grow or raise;

Them outlines also could disappear

I want to act like them colours

Random, unconscious paint drop

-To show something what only You

can tell reading through the canvas.