Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

My thumbs are the paintbrushes and this notepad is my canvas
I watch the world go by people singing performing dances
And i want to make a book so i something to show
Because i learned to write huddled in with my mom guarded by the snow 
Because it was cold and frostbite was a worry 
I learned to get from one place to the other in quite a hurry
But i always had this talent of making words into rhymes 
All i had to do is listen to the music and look out for signs 
Theres nothing ever to do no one ever to see
So out of the cold i decided to flee
Now i found a place filled with drugs and disguise 
It keeps you on your toes looking out for who lies
But at least its warmer than what i was used too 
But once again there aint anything to do 
But we keep ourselves occupied with our arts
Turning something into nothing out of broken parts
This is my art writing is my dream 
I want to be recognized i want to gleam 
I ran away from the cold to what i call home 
And now my mind hits this notepad and begins to roam