Use your illusion. Peace.tj

I should have mixed the pain(t)
before I raised my brush,
a devil hatched a saint
then stroked the white with blush.
The redness of these eyes
once radiant and lush
would palpitate with cries
in wounds I couldn't hush.

I should have kept my secrets
or mixed the reds with white
I might have cleansed my spirit
but grey was stealing light,
instead I played with blues
and envy's greenish hues
it's magic I would bleed;
another purple bruise.

Soon I had a canvas
that was black before my eyes
when all the rainbow colors
you might find to mesmerize
had faded with the beauty
and the portrait of my peace
I lost myself in pain(ting)
as I wept a masterpiece.

The colors of the hearts
that the world considers bland,
I should have mixed the colors
so beautiful and grand
instead I bled acrylic
on easel's, dead and damned
then smeared the dripping pain(t)
with the tears and years that ran.