Perfect Portrait Colors
I'm going to paint myself a perfect world. Where I live in a perfect house, where the walls are no longuer black but a pale shade of pink, like when I blush at a happy thought. Picture frames hang pleasently on the wall. They compliment the sitting area where many comfy chairs sit. The chairs invite the perfect family that live there to sit down. Words are spoken about love and freedom. There are no rules only trust. As joy plays endlessly with my lips the clouds become angry. As rain starts to poar from the furious gray clouds, it washes away my perfect world into a puddle of mud colored paints. In their entourage they laugh at my misery. My shadow moques my every mouvement as I runaway. Fear and a sense of loss visit me today. The sun dances along the horizon before it is time to sleep. The last glare on my face, my lst friend, fades away. I am left alone in the fabricated light. The dark corners of the night seem like the only safe place to be. If only I had my paintbrush. I could paint my way out of here.