If life were a canvas
And we were the artist
It would take an eternity to finish such a masterpiece
We would use every color in existence
And any texture imaginable
All the movement that could be captured
So much depth you could fall in
Value so perfect no one could criticize its beauty
No specific form or shape
Enough soul to scream at you from the cloth in which it occupies
Immensely wrapped together with ribbon of rhythm
To be hung up and forgotten in some dank museum
Where the title card would read “Life”
And the medium would say “Painted with Pain, Grief, and Heartache”