Said a voice in my head
Paint !
It cried once again;
As I stood before
A sorry crumbling wall;
With holes in it,
Loose bricks and all.

“But what’s the point?”
I shook my head
Beginning to walk away.
“This wall is done for.
It’s just crumbling away.”

What will I gain?
Putting my art and
My sweat in vain?
This pent up art
Inside me, is meant;
For far greater expression.
To fritter it away,
On this junk; is
An insult to creation.

Paint! Beseeched the voice.
Paint…Just to paint..
Like all the things,
You do just to do…
A decay in surrender,
Has but no meaning.
Dissolve me in colour,
Pray paint me too!

Give me life; even if
Like a false hope.
Even if in passing,
Let me be seen;
By those passing by.
Walls all around me,
Are painted so lovely.
Some yellow, some orange,
Some green, some blue.
Fill me with colour,
Even if in death;
Grant my last wish,
I pray to you.

Give me a meaning,
I have never had.
Give me an identity
That I never knew.
Heal me with colour,
I need you to.
Let colours this time,
Rain on my wounded
Bricks; like clouds do.
Oh paint me too….

© Jay Kaushal

2 thoughts on “The Graffiti Artist

  1. Aw, I actually love this! I’m big on the idea of painting for the sake of it, and not for the recognition. So what if the wall is already crumbling? You will have known that you painted, and honestly, that should be enough. Thanks for linking it!

    Liked by 1 person

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