I walk,
A thick brush
Paints my way
I cross,
An inked bridge
My feet black
I stop,
The black brush
Paints a crossroad
I sit,
days pass by
As I ponder
I decide,
A blackened path
Walking on ink
I wait,
The brush draws
More diverging paths
I reach,
Holding the brush
Snapping in half
I look,
My body covered
In black ink
I walk,
My body blackened
My path white
A person and the brush that paints their path. An ode to fate, destiny, and the premise things happening for a reason.
Sometimes breaking the brush will make us lost and 'blackened', but atleast we will be free