Complex [ Poems ]

Chapter 9

Heart painted with rouge,
A knife serrated the muscles,
The bloody liquid painted a canvas.

Here lies the canvas,
Starting point of life,
A blank piece of nothing.

The dark red liquid formed a pool around the canvas,
A black paint mixed in with the rouge,
Tainted heart tainted mind.

Wiping the pool with a towel,
Hiding the remaining filth with white acrylic paint,
Blotches of red appearing on the canvas,
Crystal clear that it won't be able to be erased.

A bottle of water,
A mixture of watercolour paints,
Turning water into the colour of khaki,
Once fell onto the canvas,
Tainted canvas got tainted even more.

Wet liquids teared the canvas,
The once blank canvas turned tainted.
Mixture of corruption and sins.
An epitome of broken and despair.

Once imperfect will never be perfect.
Once broken will never be fixed.
Once destroyed will never be retrieved.

Took a brush and started painting,
The blue of the sky and the blue of the sea,
The picture of calmness.

Once mixed with black,
The picture became an entirely different picture,
The serene calmness of the sea,
Became the calm before the storm.

Using colour properly will depict the emotions,
Using colour improperly will depict the corruption,
Using the colour with intent will represent the painting,
But even the most famous painter have a hard time delivering their real intentions.

Talented as they may,
For the real world have no place for talents,
Only those who succeed,
And those who didn't succeed.