before the damage she's like a blank canvas...nothing is impossible and anything can be created. colours and textures, lines and shapes.....a kaleidoscope of hope and trust and opportunities...
but then someone or something swipes black across the face of her creation. a thick paste of oppression, worries and guilt....it suffocates the colour and allows only brief glimpses of it to peak through this new shroud...
she applies colour after colour, valiant in her attempt to get back to where she was before, but all she portrays is a mass of twisted tar....she needs to wipe the slate clean...something never done before....never attempted....never trusted....change.
she cleaves away the years of pressure and scrapes away the memories long forgotten....she exposes the truth....the light....the colour....the original.
all we are is originals....fucked up by time....trying to get back to the innocence...
but then someone or something swipes black across the face of her creation. a thick paste of oppression, worries and guilt....it suffocates the colour and allows only brief glimpses of it to peak through this new shroud...
she applies colour after colour, valiant in her attempt to get back to where she was before, but all she portrays is a mass of twisted tar....she needs to wipe the slate clean...something never done before....never attempted....never trusted....change.
she cleaves away the years of pressure and scrapes away the memories long forgotten....she exposes the truth....the light....the colour....the original.
all we are is originals....fucked up by time....trying to get back to the innocence...
words: my own (c) Huffy
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