His Painted Soul
His Painted Soul He was worn from his constant need to pull through the day. To stay awake in thought with every second. His chest beard heavy and his eyes could see no hope. He could feel his world around him shrink. Colors that were once vivid are now dull. They settle upon his view like rain, casting streaks of sadness upon his eyes. He feels nothing but sorrow speak with his burdens. Lost for so long, so tired, so anxious to be free. He finally decided a enough was enough. He took his heart, pulled it from his chest and placed it in a bucket. He then took his pain, his misery and did the same. He poured as many tears as he could into the bucket. He took every memory, happy and sad, and mixed it in with the rest. He took everything he had inside himself, placed it in the tin bucket and started to mix it. While he mixed it he could hear himself, he could hear memories calling out. He could hear his pain crying, he could feel ...