
The tip of my brush dips into the
Pot of thick black sticky paint
To smear across my face and
Skin and flesh, blocking out
Everything that causes my
Paining heart to cry
Unceasingly.
Is death a
Better
Option?
I paint some more.

The tip of my brush dips into the
Pot of thick black sticky paint
To smear across my face and
Skin and flesh, blocking out
Everything that causes my
Paining heart to cry
Unceasingly.
Is death a
Better
Option?
I paint some more.