His brush is no ordinary brush.
It has a mind of it's own that later brings numbness.
But the numbness only last so long and so he starts again.
As his pain fades away his worries do to.
But as I said before.
It only last so long.
When the memories come back and the guilt at full force.
He hides the battle scars to try and forget.
But then when he is at his worst.
With no one to help him or fight his fights.
He loses again to the temptation and starts once more.
And as he goes through his routine he feels something off.
But not enough to get him to stop.
He doesn't know this will be his last time painting and starts to give in.
The lines are straight and the red seeps through.
As a reminder to him of what he couldn't do.
He couldn't stop the comments or gossip behind his back.
And even his family refused to acknowledge the pain of despair.
So he fought his own fight in hopes he could win.
But feeling like there is no purpose why wouldn't he just cut again.
And so he did.
Again and again.
Each time bringing that freeing release but then everything became reality again.
Nothing could cure it forever but he took his canvas to help again.
The blood wouldn't stop.
Couldn't and wouldn't it rolled down his arm dripping into the ever-growing pool.
I'll just clean it later then.
But the boy didn't know he wouldn't get a chance.
And as he breathed his last breath his thoughts wondered on this.
What did I do to deserve this?
The answer you ask? Nothing, nothing at all.
You see the boy was innocent and his heart was pure.
But the world doesn't care it's free to choose the cruel fates.
So wake up and enjoy your life.
You don't know who's struggling even if it seems like they have the perfect life.
