He struggles to drag the pencil
Can't find the strength to pick up the brush
Falls into the pure canvas

How can he depict the colors that haunt him
The vivid oils that torment him

With shaking hands,
The pen floats above the untainted
To smear the dark ink would be to sin

Tears are all the empty canvas take
No polluted graphite to smear it
Paint won't wound the prestine white

Preserve the innocent
Protect the untainted
Even if it's a lie,
Even if under the surface colors reign in chaos