which I said I'd do.
And as for the writing below is some old
and new, something feels right about these.
The scares hidden by paint,
and a childhood spawned
She shows her pain,
with all the emotions of hell.
Trust thrown to the pits,
and wonderment lost to all.
Watching hell's fire in her gaze,
her eyes fall and yet they flow.
Let her mercy wash over me,
drowning in her forgiveness.
Can you see her sainthood.
Is Madness real,
or do we just fall short of our sanity.
Do our minds trick us,
or do we trick those around us.
Do our thoughts betray us,
or free us.
Is Love real,
or are our hearts just hiding our lust.
Do our bodies obey us,
or do we succumb to its inevitability.
Do our desires betray us,
or keep us true.
Is Life real,
or is the world figments of mass delusions.
Do our needs for significances drive us,
or do we stubble through reality.
Do our perceptions blind us,
or guide us.
I have wondered for such nights where wisdom is found,
And thoughts made real.
Where sense is made,
And decisions proclaimed.
I have longed for such nights where fear washes away,
And madness falls.
Where sorrow fades,
And pains are easied.
Yet all I find on such nights is the absents of thought,
Followed by the delusions of a broken mind.
So the creative mind has returned, its taken long enough. First the painting and now the writing, as for the painting i have started one painting and already I'm planing the next two and sketching for them. One of these will be a self portrait, but how i see my inner self (at least that's the idea). the second is well used and done idea of werewolves, its the painting of fur I want to challenge myself with. Oh there's also the painting of