Staring.
Thinking.
Moving.
Breathing.
But still no inspiration.
This pain,
this beauty.
This death and sorrow
Still brings no motivation.
The colour palette lays untouched.
Bold.
Simple.
Clean.
Life drags on.
I suffer through.
But still, nothing.
No record.
No document.
Not even a single stroke on the canvas.
As if life never started.
The absence of colour,
a constant reminder.
The clean brushes,
always haunting me.
The canvas still remains untouched,
after all these years.
No one will remember the girl,
who painted the unexisting masterpiece.














Comments
--
The world is not beautiful; therefore it is. ~ Kino no Tabi
~ShortStackStories
~Amaranth-Portal
=RawEm0tion
--
"Wolfman never had a problem with Dracula, so why do vampires and werewolves fight so much now? Frankenstein needs to teach these b****es to get along like he used to."
--
Save it for the bedroom fucko!!
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