Anguish of an Artist

In a cold dingy lonely night,
In the wilderness of the deafening silence,
Desperate and broken, I alone,
Sat before a blank canvas,
Struggling to paint a picture perfect,
With a ruined brush and dried hues.
The strokes went awry and wobbly,
The colours blended messy and bland,
And turned the canvas dark and dull,
Portraying but my paining heart.