To be honest, I'm not a good string player.
And percussive rhythms are not particularly available to me
The notes of the keys, the sound of black-and-white, all in grey
And my voice, I would say about the creative poverty
My brush, the canvas is not able to paint
In modeling, sculptures I will only say, Hello
Passion in the form of art, vulgarize only its truth
My this, pen, paper, thought.
Not philosophical thoughts, not fairy tales, stories, epics
I just want to open up all the guts that were hidden from me
Cut open, get all the strings of the sad soul
The rhythm of the heartbeat, black and white lines on which someone is in a hurry.
Hear the cry that only you can hear
A picture of an artist who lost color in the dark
To find out how you blind what you think is true
My this, pen, paper, thought.
This is mine
© Copyright: Анна Петровна Владимирова, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120010206940
Свидетельство о публикации №120010206940
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