A canvas so clear-
Without any mark.
She picks up the cold brush,
To paint her art.
The brush moves across the canvas,
Painting it in crimson hue.
The painting was a peice of art-
Indeed.
The brush made a few more strokes,
To give more beauty to the plain.
Laid down the brush after completing it's task-
She no more had her mask.
She laid on the bed,
Letting the canvas drop.
A dream she were in,
For all her life.
-Scar
Hey everyone it's me your author.
If you are reading this then recommend it to others too.
I would love to see your response.
Please 🥺 co-operate with me as I have no fixed time to post as I have school too.
Please 🥺 understand me.
YOU ARE READING
Blisters|Sad Poems And Quotes
PoetryI write as a hobby. These are a few poems that I have written. I will be posting from time to time.
