Another Painting

She was the canvas,

the blade the brush,

the blood the paint

that gives her a rush.

A rush of releif 

from the opressive thoughts

that control her mind,

that takes control of her life.

She only does these paintings

when she has given up

the fight she goes through every day.

When she has lost a battle in this endless war.

It is this pain,

this releif,

this mistake,

that gives her a chance to break

the vicious cycle in he life.

A chance to escape her plight.

This poem is about: 
Me

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