I Need a Can of Paint
Echoing cries float around,
bouncing off the walls of my cavernous soul,
empty and pleading to be filled up,
openly bleeding.
But nothing at all is felt.
No joy and no pain,
no excitement or confusion.
Just a plain white canvas.
But where the hell's my can of paint?
I need more than a dry brush,
a canvas this blank,
and a handful of hopes.
I need a collage of colors,
of ambitions and dreams and feelings.
May the 'paint' drip red
from this morbid 'paintbrush' of mine.
bouncing off the walls of my cavernous soul,
empty and pleading to be filled up,
openly bleeding.
But nothing at all is felt.
No joy and no pain,
no excitement or confusion.
Just a plain white canvas.
But where the hell's my can of paint?
I need more than a dry brush,
a canvas this blank,
and a handful of hopes.
I need a collage of colors,
of ambitions and dreams and feelings.
May the 'paint' drip red
from this morbid 'paintbrush' of mine.
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