Whisper of a treason

When the ink betrays the brush,

And the paper has no words,

I’ll be sure,

You are gone.

The needle is stuck in my hand

And the hurt starts to burn,

While the blood falls down

I’ll draw my last words.

When the brush betrays the picture

And the paint has no colours

I’ll be sure,

You won’t come back.

Hug to disappointed

Beaten by the truth

I see how it fades

The life that we had painted

When the picture betrays my see

And the world has no sense

I’ll be sure,

This is the end.

Paint by: Anii Dente