The World Is My Painting

I’m haunted by the elegiac darkness of this world.

There are no visible boundaries of this black room I exist in.

No light, no color, almost as if the world itself is blind.

How am I to restore light in such a dark place

That even I am unable to see through?

I cannot see, I can smell, taste, hear, and touch

The darkness circulating throughout the realm.

A light has made its presence known as a glow

Emits from the depths within my body.

This white shine only glows within my body

And still leaves the rest of the world saturated in black paint.

My heart and every other vital organ are exposed.

A myriad of colors are flowing through my veins.

These are the only colors left that exist.

The world needs to be painted again so

I’m going to bring it back to life.

With a razor, I cut through my skin and watched

The colors seep through my body into the darkness.

A pool of multicolored paint lays in front of me at my disposal.

With a paintbrush, I use the colors within my body

And give a hue to everything that was once alive.

I’m losing consciousness and I will soon be dead

But the world will never again dabble into darkness.

The grass is greener than it ever was, the sky is bluer

And everything that was once beautiful is lively again.

I’ve fallen into a slumber in which I’ll never awake,

But I’ll get to sleep in a pool of beautiful colors

I knew once existed. To my death,

I’ve made the world a painting of my own

That came straight from the heart.