Dust upon a broken canvas that will never receive paint.
He is far too gone to accept the wonderful colors that were to be his fate.
Now he sits in a corner broken and alone. Pondering on the story or the tales he could of
In the end he is merely wood and cloth, which will soon be thrown away and forever lost.
He's far too gone his sheet withered and frayed, his hopes and dreams have alas...faded
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