Blank, silly, lifeless
Your days are grey and your nights are black
Your days are grey and your nights are black
Your face holds no pink cheeks nor colorful eyes
Can you not feel the Red apple blossoms and their scent filling the lungs of the
Orange breasted birds as they flee silently into the Yellow sun beams,
warming faces and snouts, and beaks of the animals on the
Green soft Earth we've beaten and driven insane, and the blanket of
Blue smooth sky that provides a crayola Violet sunset, lightly painted with delicate hands
while Indigo mud heals the broken bones of the wild?
But you are so white, so transparent, and pale
Your emotions are 50 shades of an monochromatic color
Light grey, grey, grey, grey, white
Light grey, grey, grey, grey, white
You give no inspiration as you sit on your other white face
I try to fill you with rainbows of imagination and freedom
But you, my paper, you absorb only grey
You give only false light, and
On your own you accumulate to a white nothingness
You give only false light, and
On your own you accumulate to a white nothingness
A white noise heard by a artist who's stuck.