Painting a Blood-Red Sky

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Open space before her
A blank canvas soon to fill
Blank stretch; white solitude
Crystalline tears freely spill

Acrylics used long after their time
Angry strokes, she finger paints
Liquid dilutes the colors
An array of scorn and taint

Bitter hatred ekes out
Resentment in her touch
With each new shade
She expresses far too much

The scenery she's painting
Is one of the heart
An ocean tide at sunset
And it's tearing her apart

The ocean borne of loneliness
Is a result of all her tears
Spilling innumerably from her eyes
The once-white canvas it sears

The latter of her landscape
A crimson, blood-red sky
Is all that remains of the image
The last that she shall try

And so to continue painting
To finish what she began
For that perfect blood-red sky
She takes the razor in her hand

With perfection of the artist
In each of her quick strokes
She draws her final color
Blood tainted of forlorn hopes

As taint and scorn hit canvas
Crimson cruelly stains white
But to her, it matters little
She succeeded with her plight

Idle saline drops dilute,
An ocean borne of her lonely cry,
And as her wrists lie bleeding, she smiles…

For painting a blood-red sky

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::Lisa Kantenseter::
11-24-05