Poets logo

Paint with a purpose

Throwing paint, not a fit

By Kristine StreettPublished 5 years ago • 1 min read

Sometimes I sing.

Sometimes I paint.

Sometimes I cry.

I am angry, I am full of hate, yet also empty.

The days when I find myself stuck in my grief, the stages that never come in order. Sometimes out of nowhere, sometimes, right on time. You never know what can be hiding behind the eyes of a smiling face. The act that becomes so natural, yet stagnant all the same. You find your way through a path of destruction. The small glimmers of hope in a dark world give you the strength to pick up the pieces and keep going where you need to be. The world keeps turning, so I must keep learning. Throw the paint, don't throw a fit. Anger and hatred can't fix it. It's the small moments of joy in the blink of an eye that's life. Why waste any more time. That is the only free thing we will never get back. No refunds here my darling. Feel it all, but do not live in the shadows where the light can't find you again.

Sometimes I smile.

Sometimes I laugh.

I always think of you.

Throw the paint, don't throw a fit.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Kristine Streett

I am a mother, visual artist, musician, and writer. I'm a Melanoma fighter/warrior. I am an activist for all human rights and social graces. I believe in the unknown and that knowledge is our greatest superpower! Magic, Beauty, TRUTH,& Love

Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.

Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.

Subscribe For Free

Reader insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment
    Written by Kristine Streett