Author: xxXFrozenForeverDeathXxx PM
I am a painter, who paints with beautiful burguandy paint.Rated: Fiction T - English - Mystery/Drama - Words: 292 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 12-08-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3081153
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I have a paintbrush,
With beautiful crimson paint.
I am a painter,
Well-known in this world.
I painted a picture everyday,
With beautiful scarlet paint.
People scrambled to find out who I was,
But they never knew.
They really liked me,
Always studying my work.
So I continued to paint,
With beautiful passionate red.
One day, I walked down the street,
And saw the people who liked my work
Surrounded by bright candles,
And a picture of my work.
As they saw the brillant sangria
In my lovely work.
I was content with being,
Such a wonderful painter.
No one knew though who I was,
So they kept on trying to find me.
One day, I made a mistake in my work.|
The picture was wrong,
With deep maroon paint.
They scrambled to find me even more.
My work wasn't beautiful.
Even my husband didn't like my work.
I wondered if I could paint something else,
To make up for my horrible work.
I grabbed my paintbrush,
And wondered around to find something to paint once more.
Soon, I came across a lake.
And bent down.
I had found something to paint.
I quickly got to work.
It was different though.
It was painful.
But worth every stroke.
With one last cry,
As the last line of scarlet came out,
My last beautiful piece was finally done.
They soon came across my work.
And studied quickly.
Amazed at the odd scarlet paint.
My last piece of work was done.
With my paintbrush in my limp hand,
My life as a painter came undone
Questions, comments, concerns? All are welcome.