Painted Thoughts

Not every smile is genuine,

when bright lights magnify darkness.

Not every tear is sadness,

when solitude runs from chaos.

Not every truth is a lie,

but every lie is someone’s truth;

and all the smiles,

and all the tears

hold a wicked honesty that can be seen

somewhere beyond a mirage of righteousness,

in a desert of human contradiction

and individuality.

For if all I am to feel,

all I am to see,

all I am to do,

and all the colours of my life

are predetermined and crated

in monotonous greys,

what’s the point in even opening the box

to teach myself to paint.