An empty canvas I once was Clear, pure and yet to be discovered I desired the simple touch of paint And envied the true essence of colour But When the day finally came I wasn’t painted Beautifully Yet invaded Brutally By the darkest shade of misery.
The ghosts are depressed Because their desires were suppressed The angels are weeping Because the human race is sleeping The poets are suffering Because the meaning of life is puzzling. God is smiling Because we are surviving.