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Painting Worlds

I'm lost, as everything I see around me is dust
Chained to this pole as my past fills me,
Bad memories rip through me like knifes.
I'm bending and breaking, I drop to my knees; still hung by my shackles.
I see a silhouette of whom I'd die for
I reach out, but nothing as the shackles cut through my brittle skin.
It seems right to just give up and suffer in the brutal dust storm,
The air consuming my thoughts and dreams, turning them into dirt to add to the mix.
I'm lost within, suffocating.
I need to talk...and finally breathe.
Scared that I'm somewhere new, its so ugly, what can I do?
I paint a magnificent scene of roses and sunshine; a perfect world as can be.
I've won awards, all mean who I am inside
First in nothing
First in being scared
First in being shy
First in hiding and being afraid.
Many being labels upon my heart
No love
No personality
No nothing.
Instead of painting everything around me, I start painting myself.
The dark purple is loving and caring
The light teal is beauty and truthful
The black is my past, it takes up most of my inside.
Lost in so many colors,
What's all of this mean when there is no key to follow?
Everyone is a rainbow of different shades,
Use colors wisely, you'll never know when they'll come back around.
Until then,
Figure out your colors, then paint carefully.





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