BLANK CANVAS

A spectrum of colours lie waiting

To seep into my now sealed pores.

I have existed an eternity without them,

But my empty veins are now thirsty for a world

They had once known.

My eyes are eager to finally see

Beyond this washed-out reality.

Time has no meaning here-

Yet, it is too late.

The scars have left no room for colour on my canvas.

-When will I be able to breathe?

 

Ria Chawla 12 AICE

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