Earnest
A rugged man squats painting teardrop onto blades of grass
Behind him chases the sun, he barely escapes its light
“ I worry I must hurry for this night is running low.”
And the man paints faster
This poem is about:
Me
Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741