Paint

Is it too late to repair promises I had to break?

Can I be forgiven or did I get what I deserved?

Resisting inner abrasions of a crude dissension

I try to wash off my soul tainted with charcoal

In a fit of rage, I stain a blank page

Spreading hate through cracks in the glaze

I lower my defenses it gets dark again

With all its splendor the sun is up but the sky is gray

Trying to erase the past filled with oil and grime

To find a space in the canvas to write