Tia Alliece Rogers

“I Paint Because I Can’t Write Poetry”

My emotions in acrylic,

The sturdy, concrete walls

A wanderer needs but never finds.

Stability given by soft bristles,

Bending to pressure

As I try to make my mark.

My heart on the wall,

Blues and grays mixed with 

Mistakes and experience.

Braille for thoughts without a voice

And a mind in itself.

Stained hands meet broken jars,

Remembrances, dead by

Drowning in red ink.

Untied shoes replace sunny skies,

And knives spread as well as cut.

Paint as flesh,

Flesh given feeling—

My feelings.

Creating life,

To save life.

My life.

And a past I can’t let go of.