A Little Bit Of Sunshine

My friends think poems are stupid And I'm half inclined to agree Too bad they're the only way  I know how to breathe Painting patterns with my words A self-portrait in colours and verse My mother chides me, "Well it's hardly a life path" But I'm already a 1000 miles in It's threaded in my heart And tatooed on my skin It is the melody ringing at the back of my head At times an explosive jazz number At others, the aching notes of a lone piano propped in the shade That no one but me knew how to play Poetry is the steady hand on my shoulder when there's nothing left to say

I can recognize pain from a mile away Etched on her lover's face Tangled in their warm embrace It's like a language of its own Distorted, lost in translation  Unspoken, yet told Through the eyes of those who know Who've seen, who've felt Who've mourned in the stillness of the night Who awake to yet another fight / It colours their world and sours their taste They seem to run at a different pace  Theirs is an unfortunate power To carve out joy with their teeth To stand on unsteady feet