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Painting

Splatter color, smell of paint like poisonous fumes. IT gets flung around, no order, rage unleashed. They only way to get to escape it is to run, or be stained forever. It makes no sense.
People laugh as I bare my emotions on canvas, though I suppose I must look silly flinging paint around the room.
I stop, dripping in color, utterly exhausted, and looking like something alien, like a rainbow.




Words by Tyr-fira
Read 554 times
Written on 2005-10-21 at 20:17

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Inked.
You would be the prettiest rainbow ever.
2005-10-25