In hues of colors, I find solace divine,

Where brush strokes weave the tapestry of time.

When words fall short, emotions run deep,

My pain finds solace, awakened from sleep.

With every stroke, a story is born,

On canvas, my heart's secrets are adorned.

Each pigment dances, whispering my pain,

A language unspoken, yet not in vain.

The canvas becomes a mirror of my soul,

A sanctuary where my scars find console. In every stroke, a tear finds its release,

A silent catharsis, a moment of peace.

When words fail to capture the depths within,

My brush becomes the vessel, the unspoken hymn.

Each stroke paints the battles, the victories won,

Emotions unchained, in colors, they run.

The vibrant hues echo the joys and the strife,

In swirls and strokes, the symphony of life.

The pain transformed into strokes of grace,

A masterpiece born, an emotional embrace.

Each stroke tells a tale, untold and true, The canvas a witness, an eternal debut. Through paint and brush, my heart finds its voice,

An eloquent language, a healing choice.

So I paint away the sorrow, stroke by stroke,

In every color, a part of me, bespoke.

For when words falter, my canvas knows, How to speak my story, where healing grows.