The spirit of a painting
Its when you see the spirit of a painting, that’s when you can truly feel the emotions of the artist, the energy that flows though his fingertips, the pain on the canvas, you can see the rivers of tears.. And the longing for her. Then as you go deeper into the paint of color.. You see the miles of footsteps in the sand. He walks along the see shore, his hair blowing in the wind, stuck to the wetness on his cheeks of pure sorrow tears, he looks tired, nights he can’t sleep. I miss you he whispers to the wind.. His heart is broken off sadness, and in the corner you see grey.. I wish it was me who died of the evil that poisend you veins, I wish it was me.. I miss you..
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