Sitting before a blank canvas,
watching shadows gather,
hands shaking, unsure what to paint,
unsure if I’ll even recognize the colors.
The future looms silent and heavy,
its breath whispers against my neck,
of promises it might not keep,
of dreams that blur and fade,
of paths that spiral into mist.
Every choice a stone skipped
across dark waters,
and I hold my breath,
watching ripples spread around me,
wondering if I will sink,
or if I might learn to swim.
My brush touches the canvas,
and I paint a girl,
lost and afraid,
sitting before a blank canvas,
searching for a glimmer of hope,
grasping for a reason to believe
in a future she can't quite see.
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