TWO BRUSHES
To Grace
There are two brushes in my hands
Am thinking which would do,
One orange, the other lemon.am wondering which suites me.
There are two pistols in his hands, he is thinking how to kill.
I turn to him, he turns to me.
Because we are both in for battle.
Oh, what a fool am I, a big one
The weapon in my hand makes no sense,
The weapon in his hand bleeds my chest
Wow! Am dumbfounded.
Adams Ewaen Eric.
(2012)
This poem was written without any intentions
