Sunday, December 2, 2012



I am a blank canvas awaiting a coat of paint

Covered in dust and blood, every moment I feel faint.
My life is painted by the hands of the creator,
Strokes of genius crash down like a meteor.
Imperfections erased with the greatest of ease,
Using blood red, it becomes possible to please
The one who holds my canvas in hand,
My minutes to Him, as grains of sand.
Until art meets artist, dark becomes light,
The battle is won! Dark forces won't fight.
My canvas now, hangs on a wall wider than the sky,
The very face of God is painted on scum such as I.

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