Dry Brushes
 

I wrote this one not to long ago, tell me what you think so far.


how long can the smile stay painted,
when everybody knows it truly tainted,
paints and colors eventually faid,
but never will memories of your love trade,
so dont call yourself a father or a friend,
when it was you that brought this epic end,

each day is a canvas in which to make your painting,
and yet the brushes stay brittle and waiting,
you try to push it aside but its not in place,
and yet you wonder why you cant keep the pace,

its because your weighted down with covers and lies,
trying to stare me in my tear stained eyes,
but i will fight and never give in,
until your finally gone and i can grin