His mind, a lonesome canvas in black and white
Is only uncovered on the darkest of nights
Where he swirls and twirls his shiny blade
Trying to find the perfect shade
Of red.
Now, His canvas of black and white,
Splattered with spots of crimson,
Is such a saddening sight;
Because it's spotted with
Paint in a shade of
Pain;
A masterpice created in an act of Desperation
That no one knew he was painting.
