59

15 8 4
                                        

I watch as the paint bleeds into the pretty canvas
At first it beautiful but more paint bleeds into it making it less pretty
It continues on like that until all that remains is the paint
The canvas is hidden and not much left for display
The paint has taken over and left marks all over
It's funny how the paint reminds me of sadness and how it starts of small slowly seeping into the 'canvas' but soon too much is present
Now the 'canvas' is hidden and only the paint shall remain.
-s

The gateway to my mind [Poetry]Where stories live. Discover now