The Canvas

7 3 0
                                    

The canvas was hung on the wall.

The room filled with dust particles.

Spiders dominating the corners.

The rotten smell of the carcass,

Filled up the atmosphere.

The canvas,

Which was painted by the great painter

Who now laid on the floor

With a silenced stillness.

The canvas,

Which was hung beautifully on the wall

Gave out dark gloomy vives.

For the painting was painted

With red tears of betrayal.

The landscape was filled

With green mindset of the painter's enemies.

The canvas,

Was still there to show the hatred disguised as love.

The painter was stabbed with the hopes of friendship.

The painting was the part of the painter's soul

Showcasing the true colours of the people.

~Chaste Sriya Barman

All rights reserved.

Copyright to the author.

Tried out a new type. Feedbacks will be appreciated. Though it might be pathetic, tried out for the first time, so will wait for the readers advices for improvement.

ScansionWhere stories live. Discover now