Canvas

There is no artist

to paint breath in my lungs.

Void eyes and hollow heart,

I pray for the heartbeat of a newborn start.

Distorted thoughts intertwine,

Manacled cries erode my mind.

Yet my canvas remains blank,

The corpse of a stillborn dream

       rotting behind. 

-Elsa.

Author's Note

it’s my first post on writerscafe! I love honest feedback :) hope you enjoy this one!

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

Dramatic, raw, emotional and more than a finely expressed use of words. Welcome to the Cafe!

[elsa]

Thank you!! So glad you liked it!

[emmajoygreen]

Times when one should be glad that the V of void is towards the end of twenty six letters and - unlike many letters, is a stranger to familiarity!

[emmajoygreen]

Why did you stop writing and/or posting, ells?