She spoke to me, when i say she i mean the world
In my dreams she'd come to me and reveal everything
What wonderful things i created and as i created i admired my creation
so did others and thus i continued to paint for myself and for the world
one day i begin to lose my interest in art, it daunted me
I never wanted to paint such things as melancholy and death
Not because it was grim and dark but because what i say was nothing of the sort
As the years passed on more and more i saw the world settle into madness
people became content with this idea of life and during those days i lost mine...
I were painting a world that I thought would survive the material one
I knew long ago that people would never change, the news may sound different but its all the same
these colors I had were damp, the room its self were pale, the limitation of my health has forced me to retire my craft
this painting never saw the light of day, that unfinished painting that sadly decayed away
that same painting that were a sentiment to my life, that I died alone yet forever by its side...
An attic for a tomb no funeral to see me yet i forever rest easy...
"Experiences are of more value to me than anything else in the world, the good and the bad..." -Marcus A. Blake-
