(Poems) – blank canvas – 86 words

I am standing in front of a blank canvas,

trying to leave a mark on the emptiness.

I paint with darks, I paint with lights,

I push hard and wild,

and then soft and light.

I forgo sleep, food, and restraint,

but the canvas is still blank.

I split my wrists and empty myself out,

giving every color and ounce of life in me,

and in the end,

I can only watch as the few marks I made drip off the canvas.

I have done nothing.

One response to “(Poems) – blank canvas – 86 words”

  1. I love love love this. The canvas is the world, the painting and pouring oneself out is the struggle to leave a mark on said world, and when all is said and done, the paint slowly drops away as you are forgotten. Depressing? Depends on how you look at it. The art here isn’t the final product, it’s the suffering.


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