The Blotted Canvas

Dear God,

Why does the Wind scream

curses across my skin?

The need to redeem so plainly spread 

across the canvas we call life

paint smeared dark like lead

Why do I confuse tantalizing demons

with the distant angels

who think im yet just a pawn? 

Your blood soaked into wood 

spreading across my hands 

yet I still use these hands

to open my very own Pandora's Box 

filled with the cries of the breathless night

That precious line crossed 

between Love and Hate 

the simple sense of morality evaporates

Why do I search for beauty in pain 

search for my escape 

but find only my personal Mark of Cain.

With love and yet confusion,

Jasmine Lanphear