In hues of sorrow, strokes of pain,
Upon the canvas, they remain,
A palette rich with tears uncried,
In every brushstroke, souls abide.
Each stroke reveals a hidden ache,
A heart's lament, a spirit's quake,
The artist's hand, a vessel true,
Transcending pain, in colors blue.
With every stroke, emotions rise,
In silent screams, in muted cries,
Through lines that dance, in tortured grace,
A story told, in every space.
In shades of darkness, shadows fall,
But light still whispers through it all,
For even in the deepest night,
The artist finds the dawn's first light.
So let the colors bleed and blend,
Let pain and beauty intertwine,
For in the art of paining's woe,
There's solace found, in letting go.
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