Canvas

A world is painted on a canvas.

Filled with turmoil.
Drowning with sorrow,
Rocked in the contrast
Of black and white turned gray.
Swirled in confusion.
Ripped at with harsh hands.
Admired by the grubby.

It screams of the uncertainty
at the edge of a cliff
where the only option is Down.
Because Up is a ladder,
That I just don't possess
Within my ripping head.

The world is insanity.

Death. Destruction.
Life. Forgiveness.
All muddled together,
Tangible, unbreakable.

Unable to salvage,
The light from within.
That once dream to create,
To paint, a pure world.
Which can no longer exist.
As the canvas gets bigger.

But before I rip apart,
My greatest masterpiece.
Years of work placed in.
Let me cake over the madness.

Hidden, lost, forgotten.
Protected and harmed.
Chipped.

Let me paint,
A green Earth, yellow suns.
Peace, love.
Right. Wrong.
Laughter.
Hope.

Painted on a canvas, a smiling face.